


Out on a Limb

by writtenFIRES



Series: Egos, Inc. [2]
Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: :'), Blood, Book Abuse, Crack, Egoplier, Eye Gore (mention), Gratuitous French, Happy Ending, Injury, Markiplier - Freeform, Markiplier egos - Freeform, RIP me, Save Me, Tree Abuse, all the warnings that come with him lol, and all the chapter title and squirrel and nut and tree puns you could ever ask for, bing forgot to turn his safe search on, creepy imagery, egregious music selections, horrible use of bro and dude speak, its the host i mean, kots suffers various abuses at the hands of the other egos, lightning storms are fun, mostly unintentionally, no animals actually harmed tho, no wait sorry i meant Silver Shepherd™, prepare for feels, really they care for him like an estranged uncle but the man needs to stop getting stuck in trees, red man - Freeform, save king, so is foreshadowing, tags will be added as chapters are posted, the googles, the googs, the jims, threats to animals, yandere is in this so, yeah i lied this isnt a oneshot lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-11-23 04:30:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 25,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11395377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenFIRES/pseuds/writtenFIRES
Summary: At Egos Inc., everyone has their schtick. Their quirks. The defining characteristics that make them unique and separate them from Markiplier, their source, their creator. Some are androids, some can warp reality, and some are just... very, very odd people.King of the Squirrels is no exception. Harmless for the most part, but he has one nasty habit the other egos just can't seem to break...A work inspired by alcordraws on Tumblr!





	1. aVOIDing responsibilities

**Author's Note:**

> So. Remember when I said these would all be oneshots? Yeah. I lied. XD Honestly, I should have seen this coming, as a few of these ideas were multi-faceted or included multiple characters.... Oh well. I doubt anyone's complaining. :P
> 
> Mainly though, I decided to make this one a chaptered short because I'll be working quite late tomorrow, and already have enough written now for two parts. So it'll make things a bit easier on myself.
> 
> So yeah. Just like the last fic in this series, inspiration was taken from [alcordraws](https://alcordraws.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr! Primarily an ask they answered about King of the Squirrels always getting stuck in trees, and the other egos needing to get him down. I wanted to explore that idea. And so I did.
> 
> Each chapter will be a different ego taking on the task, so look forward to that. XD And of course, we start with Mr. Dark and Loathsome himself. Because I know all of you can't get enough of Darky. ;)

For Mark's numerous egos, hosting quirks was simply part of their unique existence. Quirks, traits and habits were what implicitly made them an ego, a character, an idea or role Mark dreamed up for laughs or entertainment. Sometimes they were facets of his personality, sometimes they were adventures into various skits, and sometimes they didn't have a reason for existing at all.

There were certainly a lot more egos now than there had ever been. It was one of the reasons Egos, Inc. had been erected in the first place. However, no matter how many new faces were added to the ranks, there would always be the originals. The first ideas which had sprung up in a very young Mark Fischbach's head.

Darkiplier. Wilford Warfstache. Googleplier, perhaps. Yet there was one the fandom seemed torn about. Caught up between obscurity and being forgotten, or being fondly cherished with nostalgia. It probably didn't help he really had only one schtick to go off of. Mark hadn't given him much, but what little he'd been given, he _owned._

King of the Squirrels was a mystery wrapped in an enigma and positively _dripping_ peanut butter at all times.

None of the other egos really understood him, but then, that tended to apply in general when it came to Mark's egos. He had his own little world and his own manner of thinking. Seemingly one of the most "normal," simply because he apparently didn't have any otherworldly abilities or modifications. Just a man in a cape and crown, face coated with sticky peanut butter. Squirrels flocked to him in droves, trusted him, could even be commanded by him- but that wasn't really a _power_ , was it?

None of the others seemed to think so, though the nicer ones would humor him. Picking up extra peanut butter, leaving his squirrels be, complimenting the little critters and just plain... leaving the king to his own devices. That was always for the best. No one really tried dragging him to meetings anymore. Giving him any duties around the building was sure to result in more mayhem than it was worth, as he tended to bring his hoard of squirrels with him  _everywhere._

No, it really was best to just leave the king alone. He was perfectly content to run around with his squirrels and climb up trees and-

That was where the dilemma came in. King was a nice guy. Kind. Cheerful. Optimistic. Normally avoided stepping on the other egos' toes, unless he decided it was a wonderful day to climb a tree. Nothing out of the ordinary for someone who ruled over a bunch of tree climbing rodents, right?

Unfortunately, the king's affinity for the creatures apparently didn't grant him their skill. Oh, he could get up the tree just fine. He was perfectly at home on the branches- rarely even broke one, incredibly. Yet when it came time to get back down...

"He's been up there for hours! He won't come down, and I need him for a segment." The drawling voice of Wilford Warfstache lamented from his position near the base of a massive oak tree just behind Egos, Inc. He impatiently tapped his foot on the ground, hands placed squarely on his hips while he stared at the shadowy ego beside him expectantly.

Darkiplier sighed heavily, as if the mere effort of existing was a strain in and of itself. With Wilford's yammering and badgering, it possibly was. "What do you want me to do about it? Is this honestly why you dragged me out here? Just get him down yourself."

"Well I don't feel like it."

"Excuse me."

"Not excused! Get him down for me, Darky, or I'll have to take you in for an interview instead! And we all know how that turned out last time." Wilford wiggled his mustache tauntingly and waggled his eyebrows, reaching up to comically stretch out his suspenders. His gaze seemed fixated on some invisible audience just over Dark's shoulder.

Dark, to his credit, didn't murder Wilford on the spot (or, attempt to murder, anyway.) His eye might have twitched the barest amount, but his shell didn't crack. He remained perfectly composed as he straightened out his dark suit jacket. "Once. I'll get him down this once, and if you bother me to do so again, he won't be the only one stuck in a tree. Understood?"

"Bring him down!"

Dark stared at Wilford for a few more excruciating moments, then released another sigh. He supposed that was good enough. Not even bothering to look up, he gave a little snap of his fingers. His aura acted on his whim, abruptly tugging the squirrel-loving ego into his void before promptly spitting him back out onto the grass beside them. Dark slowly rolled his neck, standing at his full height. "He's all yours. Now, if you'll excuse me." Turning sharply on his heel, Dark didn't even spare the shaken king a glance as he retreated to the shade and climate control of Egos, Inc.

"You're still not excused!" Wilford called after him with a scoff. Wiggling his nose a bit, he turned back to King with an eager smile and clapped his hands together. "So! Ready for your interview, Kingy? I even coated your chair in peanut butter, just as you requested. I'd only suggest bringing along one squirrel, though. Last time they chewed through the wires!"

King, still trembling and wide-eyed and looking a little grey in the complexion, only nodded hesitantly in response. The things he'd seen in the void... he swore it felt far longer than a mere second. He was going to cuddle up with his squirrels later and probably not sleep for a whole week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm. Poor King. Scarred for life, haha.


	2. shrinking feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilford takes a turn at grounding the ever elusive King of the Squirrels.

Of course, it wasn't long before King had scurried his way up another tree. Once again, Wilford found himself standing below the branches. He'd scheduled _another_ interview because King had scarcely uttered a word in their last one, after being tossed around by Dark's influence. Wilford should've known asking that grump for help was a bad idea.

If he wanted it done right, he would just have to do it himself.

"Now King, this is your last shot! Come on down from there like the weird, creepy squirrel-y man you are, or I'm gonna bring you down myself!" Wilford reached up, wagging a finger at the silhouette he could just make out amidst the leaves.

King, his cheeks stuffed full of peanut butter, spat out some unintelligible mumble of a response. However, judging by the fact he hadn't moved a muscle, it had likely been a "no" of some sort.

Wilford scrunched up his nose and flicked a few specks of peanut butter from his person. Candy he could understand. But peanut butter? He sincerely hoped King hadn't gone and accidentally glued his mouth shut. He needed that mouth for his interview! "Well, alright, you asked for it! One King Sundae, extra nuts, coming right up!" He drawled, rolling up his sleeves for emphasis. It was entirely unnecessary, but it _felt_ important.

Rubbing his hands together, Wilford concentrated his reality warping abilities and focused them on the tree in front of him. It shook and trembled, leaves and acorns plummeting to the ground from the sudden force. The few squirrels gathered around King panicked and fled from the branches as well in a mass of angry chittering. Wilford chuckled at their fleeing, furry bodies, but still King hadn't budged. Well, good. At least Wilford could have a little fun with this.

In a blink, the tree was shrunk to the size of a bonsai. King, however, was not, and he promptly found himself dropping a short distance to land on his ex-perch with a pained grunt. The snap and crackle of wood upon impact spoke for itself.

Wilford let loose one more loud laugh of triumph and amusement before tugging his sleeves back down. "You see? That wasn't so hard now, was it? Come along, come along. Let's get that mouth of yours washed out before the interview. I want _words_ this time, King." His eyes flashed with something a bit more dangerous while he toyed with the cuff of his sleeve. Was that the glint of a knife? "Or else."

King, laying sprawled on his back with splinters digging into his butt, stared up at the clouds in the sky and vaguely wondered where the knife had come from if Wilford rolled his sleeves up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. At least he didn't get scarred for life again? I wonder who'll be next...


	3. nested narrative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Host needs something from King of the Squirrels, but he seems less inclined than ever to come down from his new tree...

"The Host was unaware the lot even had a walnut tree."

Said ego's deep tone was laced with an irritated sigh. He had hoped, after hearing about the incidents with Dark and Wilford, King would avoid trees for at least a little while. He should have known it was all wishful thinking. Just because a squirrel's tree is cut down or burned in a fire, that didn't mean they stopped using trees altogether.

No, if anything, the incidents only served to make King more wary and nervous around the egos involved. Host was sincerely hoping not to join their ranks today, but like the others, he was not prepared to take "no" for an answer.

"King. The Host has talked about this. He does not appreciate King's..." Host couldn't eye the squirrels he sensed in the tree with the disdainful trepidation he was experiencing, but perhaps he managed to convey the feeling through his expression. "...subjects, tearing apart his books to insulate their homes. Also, Host has no qualms with King borrowing some of his material, but he has explicitly stated time and again to return said materials _intact_."

Host allowed a poignant pause. Part of him was hoping it would drill the point into King's head, while another part hoped the ego would own up to his transgressions. Neither seemed to occur, as he could sense King continuing to simply watch him from the thick branches. Just like his "subjects." Host sighed more wearily.

"That means without missing pages, ripped pages, muddied pages, leaves in-between the pages... and chewed spines and covers. Really, King? Chewing on Host's books?"

"It wasn't me! Samwise likes to chew on hard things! He's got growing teeth. It helps." Finally, King spoke, but of course his choice of dialogue did nothing to assuage Host's aggravation.

If Host had eyes, he would have rolled them.

"Look, I _tell them_ to keep out of your library but it's nice and warm in there! And I can't help it if they want your paper for their nests. They don't have a lot of other options. They won't go near Dark or Wilford's rooms, Bim only has plants, and all the others have threatened them with various forms of awful, terrible _death!_ You don't wanna know what Yandere did when he found out Billy'd taken some stupid shirt scraps...."

Host couldn't see King, of course, but his mind's eye and near inaudible narration showed pursed lips and furrowed brows. Worry, and an irritation of his own, coupled with indignation and righteous fury and a protectiveness akin to that of a mother with her children. Host sighed the heaviest yet. At this rate, his lungs were going to forget how to breathe normally. He was already getting a headache from this conversation. Reaching up, he rubbed at his forehead and adjusted his bandage.

"Just because the Host hasn't threatened to stuff or experiment on one of King's subjects, that doesn't mean the Host has endless patience. It is wearing very thin and King would do best to rectify the situation immediately. Starting with the return of Host's tomes on rodents and the pages missing from his latest thriller."

"Nnnn... mmmnnn... nnnnaaaa... no."

"What?"

"No."

"Are you refusing?"

"Nope."

"...is that a no to the question or are you- nevermind." Host rubbed a bit harder at his forehead. Now he was giving _himself_ a headache. He needed to end this interaction. _"Why?"_

"Well. I can't. Marshall's got some babies coming along, see, and she needs all the stuffing she can get for her hollow, especially after Wilford destroyed the oak tree-"

"Technically, the King destroyed it when he-"

"I _know_ I'm the one who smushed it but he shrunk it first! It's his fault! And he still hasn't apologized."

Host let loose a rough huff of air; scarcely a laugh. "Host would not hold his breath if he were the King." Now he could sense the King's pout.

"Anyway... so... yeah. I can't give them back. She needs them. Just write more!"

"That's not..." Host's next exhale couldn't really be considered a sigh. "That's not how it works, I just- fine. _Fine._ Just give Host back his books, then."

"No."

It took all of Host's remaining, yet rapidly dwindling patience, not to narrate the tree being wrenched from the very ground by some invisible force. His fingers tensed and clenched as his body language stiffened. Like running coffee beans through a grinder, the word slipped past his teeth, _"Why?"_

"Can't."

"Why?"

"I just can't! Look, I'm _sorry_ , but you're not getting any of your stuff back. I'll talk to them about taking more of it, but I can't give back the book they already took."

"Why not?"

Silence. When Host didn't receive an answer for almost a full minute, he decided he'd had enough. He'd played along and played nice but now play time was over. He was getting his book back, at the very least, even if it would be covered in squirrel spit. A bit louder, he started to hone his narration, feeling the words spill through his veins and out into the universe around him; bending it to his will. _"King of the Squirrels decides to change his stubborn ways and in a gesture of courtesy takes the Host's book and-"_

**Thunk.**

Host blinked. Or, he would have. The urge was still there, but no reflex could fulfill it. The awkward sensation that followed only served to fuel his frustration. What had hit him? He hadn't been paying attention to his immediate surroundings, as he'd been putting forth all his efforts to control King. Unwilling to waste more time, he shrugged it off and opened his mouth to begin again.

**Thunk.**

A walnut. He'd been hit by a _walnut_ , he "saw" it that time. He wished he could narrow his eyes. "Really."

**Thunk.** "Yes really. They don't appreciate you trying to control me!" **Thunk.**

The muscle beneath Host's left empty eye socket twitched behind his bandage. Every few seconds, another walnut would bounce off some part of his person. They were easy to brush off... until one happened to hit a little too close to home. Host felt more than "watched" a walnut spiral gracefully towards his face, where it promptly smacked into his bandage. More accurately, the part of his bandage resting over _nothing_. The reverberations against the barest edge of his empty socket sent chills racing across his skin. His spine tingled and his breath hitched. A bead of blood slipped out from beneath his bandage.

He could sense an apology already forming on King's lips, knew it was coming, even though he hadn't thrown the nut. It didn't matter. Host officially had enough. His voice cracked through the peace of the summer afternoon like a whip, shaking the fabric of all things to its core. Metaphorically, he reached into the threads of the universe, grasped them firmly in his hands, and _pulled_. With his words.

_"King of the Squirrels abruptly forgets himself and proceeds to fall off his branch, hitting several on his way to the ground. He lands on a large root."_

Judging by the sounds of cracking wood and smashing branches, coupled with King's screeching, Host's narration was successful. He waited until he heard the appropriate thud, then continued. _"His furry subjects follow suit, falling from the tree and scattering like water droplets in a sizzling hot frying pan."_ King should be grateful Host didn't make his similie literal. He listened to the sounds of furious squeaking and chittering, watching the rodents dash wildly about in his mind's eye. King was still laying on his back, half-bent around a large root and groaning.

_"The Host's book falls primly into his hands from where it had been perched in the tree. King of the Squirrels learns a valuable lesson and deigns never to borrow the Host's books agai-"_

Host's latest bout of narration was abruptly halted when he noticed a faint chittering coming from his hands. He'd caught the book, as described, but apparently someone had already been using it. He choked on his next word, his tongue catching on his teeth. "You let it make a nest out of my book?!"

It was the last words he was able to say before suddenly there was a squirrel latched onto his face, tugging at his hair and bandages with its tiny paws and screeching up a storm. He screamed himself in a mixture of shock and panic, dropping his book and flailing backwards. He ran back to the parking lot, doing his best to narrate or rip the squirrel off his face and abandoning his efforts entirely. One book and a few pages were not worth _this_.

King let loose another groan and rolled his head to the side, watching Host flee. A victorious chuckle wheezed from his mouth. "Marshall wasn't the only one nesting babies...."


	4. who let the squirrels out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark is sick of King of the Squirrels hiding out in trees all day. He sends Mark Bop to take care of the issue, with mixed results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I shared a hc with alcor about Mark Bop speaking Simlish when he's nervous or anxious, particularly around the more intimidating and powerful egos. The Simlish used here is legitimate. B)
> 
> And enjoy the music. uwu

_"It's been three days."_

_"Choo wagga choo choo..."_

_"...just go get him down. He's an embarassment."_

_"Plerg majah bliff?"_

**_"Now."_ **

_"Boobasnot! Dag dag!"_

The conversation replayed itself over and over in Bop's mind while he trudged out the back door of Egos, Inc., he treasured boom box tucked under his arm. Sure, there were plenty more modern ways to play music, but he just couldn't drop the classic. Making mixtapes was more fun than CD's or digital downloads anyway.

What was decidedly not fun, would be taking orders from the one and only Darkiplier. Why the ego had decided to hunt _him_ down for this task still baffled Bop, but he'd heard all the stories about King of the Squirrels and trees. Maybe Dark felt a different approach would be easier. Someone more "normal," without any supernatural abilities to abuse. Bop certainly fit that description.

Part of him had to wonder if Dark's concern really stemmed from secondhand embarrassment, though. It wasn't as if people just wandered through the lot behind Egos, Inc. Surely if Dark was ashamed of King's display he would have gotten him down on day one.

Well, Bop did his best not to question the inner workings of the other egos too much. Either he'd get a headache, wind up even more confused than before, or inexplicably trigger a meeting with whichever ego he happened to be analyzing. Besides a small handful of them, Bop would rather avoid the other egos. Too intimidating, too scary, too creepy, too _powerful_. No, Bop was fine just making music in his studio with Bing and maybe holding the occasional conversation with Bim. _Occasional._ He still remembered that time Bim got too excited and turned a microphone into a taco.

Bop had been terrified of tacos for a solid week, much to Bing's chagrin.

King couldn't be so bad though. He was one of the normal ones too. Just had a horde of squirrels following him everywhere, an infatuation with peanut butter, and a habit of climbing trees. Nothing scary about that.

...being eyed by a dozen squirrels from the boughs of a sizable walnut tree gave Bop second thoughts.

Still, if he just gave up and retreated, Dark wouldn't be pleased at all. Bop didn't think he could take another "private conversation" with the ego. So, swallowing down his fear, he carefully set his prized stereo on the ground. He crouched before it, still feeling the eyes of King and his subjects on him, to fiddle with the dials. He'd put together a compilation of songs he thought might appeal to the nutty King.

After all, words were not his forte by any margin. But he could do wonders with music.

Silently, Bop pulled a tape from his back pocket and popped it into the casette player on the stereo. Snapping it closed, he switched on the power and cranked the volume dial up to the max. He'd just replaced the D batteries so it shouldn't run out of juice any time soon. Pressing the play button, Bop stood and picked up the boom box. He turned it to face the tree, holding it high over his head like some lovesick teenager serenading their crush on a Saturday night.

The opening notes to [_Cotton Eye Joe_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VcDy8HEg1QY) began blaring from the speakers, immediately drawing the attention of King and his curious subjects. Several birds fled from the tree and the surrounding lot, startled by all of the noise. Bop hoped this didn't count as disturbing the peace.

Hoping to lure King down with the music, Bop continued to stand there silently on the grass, letting the music play. It killed him not to sing along or dance to the catchy beat, but he placated himself by bouncing his head. At least he had King's attention. The older ego was leaning out from the branches with slightly wide eyes. Bop was certain if he had ears similar to his furry subjects, they would be perked with curiosity.

However, the song played through, and King hadn't actually _budged_ from his perch. Bop internally sighed. Hopefully his second selection would be more successful. Sorting out what kind of music would meet King's standards was hard, but if there was one thing Bop prided himself on, it was all things music.

The chipper, high-pitched tones of the legendary [_Hampsterdance_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1qN72LEQnaU) began to play and immediately Bop noted a more significant change. The squirrels, previously just staring with interest, were now gathering on the boughs closest to Bop. It was a swatch of fur in all shades and hues, with their King right at its epicenter. He was so far out on his branch Bop feared the entire thing would collapse.

It didn't, and Bop could just spy King bobbing his head along to the beat. It was almost as if the ego was entranced. Some of Bop's trepidation melted away at the sight. Maybe he _could_ do this. Maybe he could be the first to bring King down from the tree without the use of force.

He beamed, even as the song ended and switched over to the next. This was his trump card. If King was already into Bop's ruse, then this would surely seal the deal. There was no way he could resist.

_[Peanut Butter Jelly Time.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eRBOgtp0Hac) _

Bop couldn't help but bob his entire body to the beat of this song. It was just too catchy. He would probably spontaneously combust if he didn't _move_. Skillfully, he dropped the boom box to his shoulder, balancing it with one arm so he could happily dance in place. This wasn't such a terrible task, after all. Bop wished all the requests he had to deal with included simply playing music.

Best yet, King was attempting to come down from his tree. Clearly, he was having some difficulties, but he was trying. A few of the squirrels had even clambered down to sit on the lawn instead, still watching Bop dance around. It was only a matter of time now. He had this one in the bag-

_["WHO LET THE DOGS OUT?!?!"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qkuu0Lwb5EM) _

Oh. _Crap._

Bop stumbled to a halt as one song ended and flipped over into another. A track he'd added in case he needed a last ditch effort to get King out of the tree. He'd completely forgotten about it, in his revelry. He winced and grimaced as the chorus of _"who"_ rang out like gunshots in the otherwise quiet of the lot.

As expected, rather than scaring King _down_ out of the tree, he promptly scrambled back up into its deepest branches with a shrill scream of terror. Bop could hear him rambling fearfully about dogs and wondering where on Earth they'd come from while his subjects scattered anxiously around him, disturbing the leaves. Bop sighed and hung his head. So much for that progress.

Behind him, one of the windows on the side of the building shot open, and Ed stuck half of his body through it to emphatically shake his fist in the direction of all the commotion.

_"Turnit down! I can't hear mah NASCAR! Crazy teenagers!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... he almost did it. Hopefully Dark cuts him a little slack.
> 
> How'd you like the Ed cameo? Is it a sign? I dunno, you tell me. uwu
> 
> No, I'm telling you what the Simlish means. Have fun finding it out. ;D


	5. saaaaah king

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark Bop's in hot water with Dark after his failure, so Bing decides to try his luck with the squirrel man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this chapter certainly didn't come to me the easiest. Grasping Bing's character was surprisingly difficult? I went back and re-watched his featured video, and he's, well... something.
> 
> I tried to combine the video Bing with the hc's I remember floating around about him on Tumblr. I think I did him justice, and I hope it's just my dissonance with this kind of personality that's making this chapter not sit as well with me. X'D I dunno, tell me what you guys think.

_"Yo! Squirrel bro! Down here, man!"_

King of the Squirrels had finally convinced both himself and his subjects there were not, in fact, any dogs around. No one had let the dogs out and there was absolutely nothing to fear. He'd been hoping to get a little peace at last, even if that last ego had been kind of fun to deal with.

Instead, there was yet another slightly familiar face making a bunch of noise at the bottom of his tree. Crawling out from the sanctuary of leaves and branches, King peered down at the interloper with a mixture of cautious curiosity and apprehension. One could hardly blame him, as it seemed every time he managed to get comfortable in a tree someone came along to drag him back out of it.

The ego looked normal enough, if a little... off. If King were to use a phrase, it would be "trying too hard." The muscle shirt, gaudy sunglasses, skinny jeans and skateboard would have given away the ego's identity in time- if he didn't happen to have his logo printed blatantly on the front of said shirt.

Bingiplier.

King didn't know a lot about him- well, he didn't know much about most of the egos. Especially the new ones, like this one here, and that ego with the stereo. Bing was fresh from Google's latest video, the one where he upgraded and magically multiplied (King was still trying to figure that one out). Technically, Bing had multiplied too, but King never really saw the smaller version around. That was probably for the best.

_This_ Bing, however, was squinting up at him with a strangely constipated look on his face. King couldn't really describe it. He didn't seem capable of closing his mouth; always showing off his pearly whites with some dramatic expression. King rubbed at some of the peanut butter on his cheek awkwardly, his nose twitching.

Bing must have finally spied him, because the twisted expression morphed into a bright grin and he gave the gesture for Hang Loose instead of a wave in greeting. "Yah! You, bro! Saaaah squirrel man? What is up?"

King blinked owlishly down at the odd ego, then pointed to himself as if the answer were obvious. "Me."

Bing threw his head back with a raucous laugh at that. "Oh man, oh, oh that was good dude, haa you're right! You're right, bro, you are most certainly _up_. Sky high, dude. Choice." His grin was still firmly in place. "But! Cool as that is, dude, I really need to bring you down from that high. Yeah? It's kinda important, lame I know, but it is for a friend of mine."

_Here we go again,_ King thought wryly.

"Y'know. Bop? Bop. Mark Bop. Bop. Bop was just here yesterday? Ya must've seen Bop. About yey high-" Bing took a moment to gesture an extremely vague height. "-looks like Mark."

King stared at Bing, unblinking and utterly lost. His squirrels were beginning to poke their heads out, growing curious as well about this strange, rambling human disturbing their king.

Bing sighed. "Hello? Bop. Bop tried taking you away? Then he left." Nothing. He was getting nothing from the giant squirrel man. "Huh. Maybe I should consult with your squirrel dudes up there." He shifted his attention to the fluffy rodents and gestured again in greeting. "Saaah dudes. Have you seen Bop? He looks like Mark, but a bajillion times cooler, kinda like me. Goes by the name of Mark Bop, if you've ever heard of him before. Also known as Bop?"

Silence. Bing didn't think anything in that damn tree was following him, but that didn't mean he was going to stop trying. "He's in the building- I mean, he is an ego. Have you seen him? Bop? Mark Bop? Really smooth, kickin' ego? Have you seen him? Mark Bop? He's got a beanie, and a puffy vest... Well, not hella puffy. But it's Bop. Have you seen him?"

Bing provided another extended pause, but there wasn't so much as a chitter. King hadn't said anything either. The only sounds were that of passing cars, the occasional breeze rustling the leaves and what Bing swore were crickets spawned purely to mock the silence. He let out a frustrated sigh and pinched at the skin on his temple, brows furrowed. "No? Well fuck you then!" He promptly flipped the squirrels off.

The squirrels didn't understand the gesture, but King did, and he immediately retaliated by chucking a walnut at the rambling ego. "Watch your language! There are _babies_ up here."

"Ow! Hey! Screw you man, I'm only out here for Bop anyway!" Bing snapped, rubbing at the spot on his head where the walnut had made contact. He scowled up at King and probably would have flipped him off too if he wasn't worried about getting another walnut to the head. "Dark's up his butt about not getting you out of this crazy tree so I said I'd come and do it. He almost gotcha out, he told me. Just get down here already. Those fuzzy bastards can live without ya."

King scoffed at the mere concept and stuck up his nose. "A king is _nothing_ without his subjects. They are vulnerable right now, and I will not abandon them." A regality entered his tone.

Bing was nonplussed, of course. He scratched at his head while his mouth twisted in a confused frown. He couldn't understand. "Uhhhh... whatevs, dude. Just get down here."

"No."

"C'mon!"

"No."

"I'll letcha ride my skateboard?"

"No!"

"Yeah, wasn't gonna letcha _actually_ ride it anyway. Ya douchey-doucherson."

King promptly stuck his tongue out at Bing, and Bing was quick to return the gesture. Though he looked around afterwards just to make sure no one saw him doing it. He had a "cool" reputation to uphold.

Bing awkwardly rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand. "Welp... I'm outta ideas. Dang, bro. Gotta admit stickin' to your principles is impressive. Wish you'd help the Bro Bop out, the Bop Bro- Brop. Oh, that's good, hang on I gotta make a note of that one." For several long minutes, Bing proceeded to stare hard into space.

King watched him for about one before losing interest. It was like a video trying to buffer, or a computer screen freezing. Whatever Bing had attempted to do, it overloaded his system. Or something. King didn't know a lot about technology or computers but he'd seen Google glitch similarly before. Deciding to take advantage of the returned peace, he settled into the nook he'd made for himself and spoiled his subjects with stores from his cape.

Eventually, Bing _did_ come back online, startling in his place and shaking his head. Several birds which had taken to pecking at him for any scrap of food flew off in a tizzy at the sudden disturbance. He turned to look at his shoulder and scrunched up his nose at the white stain there. "Not cool, brah."

King could hear the other ego, but he didn't bother gracing Bing with his presence this time. He was done, and was quite content to lay there with his squirrels until Bing gave up and left. There was nothing the ego could do to force him down, anyway.

"Yo! Squirrel dude!" Silence. "Squirrel man!" Nothing. "Aw c'mon bro don't ignore me, that's rude as shit." Not even a rustle. Bing scowled again and proceeded to flip off the entire tree, seeing as his target wasn't clearly visible. "Yeah, well I'll say it again, ffffuck yah, dude. And your squirrels. I'll just get Googs to help with the Darkmeister. Have fun in your tree, ya weirdo." He stuck out his tongue again for good measure, then turned on his heel to head back.

King watched from his perch as Bing hopped onto his skateboard, gliding a few feet before attempting some stunt. He failed miserably and hit the pavement. King merely shook his head and settled a bit more comfortably near the little tree burrows the squirrels had made for their babies. He slipped some more almonds to Marshall with a happy hum.

**"What's a Bing to a King?"**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I ever have to type a "bro" or "dude" again...
> 
> P.S. Did you catch the reference? ;D


	6. dam-squirrels in distress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! There's a bunch of babies stuck in a tree! Never fear! Silver Shepherd™ is here!

_"Sorry, bruh. I tried getting him down for ya but he just wasn't havin' it."_

_"Thanks for trying anyway."_

_"Yuh, he kept goin' on about "babies" or somethin', I dunno. Hey! I got a great new nickname, by the way. Ya gotta tell me what you think of it...."_

Silver Shepherd couldn't believe his ears. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop on Bing and Bop's conversation in the break room, but they were just talking so loud...

Babies? Up a tree? With that crazy squirrel man?! Why, someone should save them!

It took him a good two minutes to sort out that someone _could_ and probably _should_ be him, and then another five while he finished his frozen waffles. Couldn't perform grand acts of heroism on an empty stomach, after all.

Yet soon enough he was bounding out of the building in full superhero regalia, brushing subtly at a bit of maple syrup he'd gotten on his cape. He knew he shouldn't have worn it while he ate, but it just made him feel safe. Oh well. It was black. Maybe no one would notice. If they did, he could always claim he'd just escaped a rather... _sticky_ situation. Oh yeah. That was good.

"King of the Squirrels!"

Silver struck a heroic pose near the base of the tree, feet spread out and hands firmly on his hips. However, his shout was met with absolute silence. There wasn't even a rustle in the leaves to convey the tree was occupied. His lips formed into a surprised pout.

"King of the Squirrels? King? Are you up there?! King! If you're there, show your face, you coward!" Perhaps a little taunting would drag the ego out from hiding. Maybe he was just being rude and ignoring the Silver Shepherd. Or maybe he'd moved trees in an effort to escape all the egos constantly bothering him...

Ah, nope, that was some movement. Silver's pout morphed into a dramatic "o" of surprise as a crowned head jutted out from the leaves. King really didn't look pleased by the disturbance; his eyes were narrowed, lips pursed and brows furrowed. For a second, Silver was a little intimidated.

"What. Do you want?" King was definitely irritated.

Still, he was just a _king_. Of rodents, no less! Surely Silver could tackle someone so below him on the natural hierarchy of the universe. He was _super_. Confidence minimally restored, Silver squared up and managed to stare down the King... maybe... possibly... it was difficult to say for sure with the mask. "King of the Squirrels! I, Silver Shepherd, defender of all goodness in the world-"

"Could you maybe speed this up a little? I have babies to monitor here."

Wow, King actually interrupted his speech. _Rude._ Silver huffed indignantly. "That's why I'm here! King, you release those poor babies from your foul paws right this instant! A tree is no place for _babies_. I don't even want to know how you _got_ them, or got them _up there_ , but they need to come down!"

King's frustration shifted to puzzlement, and he tilted his head some. "What? Of course they belong up here. It's safe here. I'm not bringing them anywhere! And neither are you. Go away."

Silver sputtered at that. "Belong up here," honestly, King must have gotten into some bad peanut butter or something. The only babies that belonged in trees were baby birds! He scoffed. "I'll do no such thing! As defender of the free world, it is my duty to protect everyone in it. Including the youngest of them all! You _will_ bring them down, right now, or I'll come up there and kick your butt the old fashioned way!"

"No."

"Come on! Just one at least?" Then Silver could claim he accomplished _something_.

"No."

" _Why?!_ What do you even need with _babies?!_ I'm serious! If you don't hand them over-" A walnut smacked Silver square in the forehead and he yelped, immediately curling up a little to press at the spot. Another bounced off his exposed noggin and he cried out, diving around to the other side of the tree in a desperate bid for cover. "Hey! Quit it! That's cheating- ow!" A third walnut caught him on the ear anyway.

"Go. _Away._ "

Several more walnuts rained down, and Silver shrieked at the onslaught. He dashed around the tree several times, debating whether this act of heroism was worth it. He almost dashed back to the building more than once, but eventually his morals won out. "You can't repel me! I am, _The Silver Shepherd™!_ "

Admittedly, that was more of a girlish shriek than a battle cry, but what mattered was Silver stopped running. He grasped at the lowest hanging branch of the tree and began to haul himself up with much grunting and kicking (as if that would help). "I'm coming for you, King! I'll save you babies! For I am Silver Shepherd™, the annihilator-" Another walnut bounced off his head. "-the aggravator-"

"Stop! Go away! Don't come up here! They're sensitive, you ass! You doofy dooferson! You stoop!" King shouted, trying to be heard over Silver's ego boosting. He wasn't the only one dropping nuts anymore. The squirrels, feeling intimidated, began screeing at Silver and dropping nuts as well. It was a complete barrage.

Still, Silver ignored King's warnings, clambering up the branches with relative success. "-the anticipator-" He managed to dodge one walnut, only to be hit with five more. He cursed under his breath, his comically oversized gloves slipping on the wood. "-the accelerator-" He heaved himself up several more branches, and now he could almost see the main nest of the squirrels and their king. He crowed triumphantly, "-the altercator! Nowhere to run, King! It's the end of the line! Now hand over those babies before I knock your shiny block off!"

King looked panicked, for a moment, but then a determined expression flooded his face. He seemed to watch something for a moment and then, as if the sight fortified him, he dropped down a branch or two to confront Silver head-on.

That move gave Silver pause. Thus far, King had almost seemed afraid of him. Shouting at him and throwing things but not being outright threatening. He was the one on the defense. He should be scared of Silver. The protagonist, the hero, his downfall and doom. It was only logical. Silver thought, for once, he had this one in the bag. Now, with a determined ego glowering down at him, he wasn't so sure. The fact at least a dozen squirrels were flanking the royal did nothing to help his suddenly dwindling confidence. "Uh..."

"Only one of us is gonna fall from this tree, Shepherd. And it isn't gonna be me this time." King's voice was rough with a severity it had never hosted before. Silly as he looked with his giant crown and peanut butter covered face, that tone alone gave him a certain regality. A superior radiance that screamed of divine right and ferocity and righteous fury.

Silver was relieved he'd already emptied his bladder before tackling this particular mission. Otherwise, he might have peed himself a little. Clearly, the tables had turned, as he found himself hugging his current branch with his limbs for dear life. He gulped. "I, uh... I..."

For a brief moment, King's stern expression shifted to something chipper. "Have a nice trip, Silver! See you next fall!"

Silver blinked, dumbfounded. "Wha-"

One squirrel landed on his branch. Then a second. A third. One by one, the squirrels dropped down to his branch, and rapidly he felt it start to droop. The weight was becoming too much. It couldn't handle Silver plus all the squirrels on it at once. He gasped.

"Buh-bye!" King chirped with Mark's signature smile and wave.

With an ear-splitting crack, the branch broke free from the trunk. The squirrels, nimbly, leapt out of harm's way long before it started to plummet. Silver, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky.

King watched the ego fall, hitting several branches on the way down before landing in the grass with a thud. He winced and grimaced, sucking in a soft breath through his teeth. "Ooooh... that looked painful." His smile returned. "Glad it wasn't me this time! Good job, loyal subjects! This victory calls for nuts!" The squirrels chittered happily at this turn of events and clambered back up to King's perch, eager to partake in the celebratory "feast."

As Silver lay on the grass, groaning and moaning and reconsidering his occupational decisions, King looked fondly upon the little nests of baby squirrels and felt a powerfully protective affection well up in his chest. "Don't worry, little subjects, your King is here to keep you safe. _No one_ is bringing you down. Over my dead body..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...this was silly.


	7. adopt-a-fuck off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of the more "business savvy" egos has a proposition for King of the Squirrels.

Ed Edgar sidled up to the walnut tree, rapping at the wood with his knuckles. One hand rested at his belt while he stared up at the branches, doing his best to be patient. He'd heard King of the Squirrels was a little skittish- especially after the last few days.

It was like dealing with a wild animal. Ed had to be smart about this.

It wasn't immediate, but eventually King did come to the forefront of the leafy coverage. Ed could tell he might have caught the ego in a bad mood, so he decided to just start talking before King could attempt to dismiss him. Surely, once the ego heard him out, he'd change his tune and attitude. After all, Ed's impending offer was beyond generous.

"Howdy, King! Heard ya got some babies and I was jus' wonderin'-"

_**"NO."** _

King might have exhausted the last of the tree's walnuts, but absolutely burying Ed in them was worth it. He'd dig himself out in time. Maybe he'd even think twice about propositioning the King with his hare-brained "get rich quick" schemes. Honestly, selling babies, what was _wrong_ with that ego?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I don't know what anyone was expecting. It's Ed. There's babies. This snippet wrote itself dshuhgug.


	8. at the noyer rouge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Painting is such a nice, peaceful hobby. Maybe King of the Squirrels will get a break for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaaaat, you say, two chapters in one day?
> 
> Well, I felt a little bad that Ed’s chapter was so short. XD Plus I’ve been looking forward to writing this ego. Like, a lot. Still gotta do a oneshot just for him but for now this’ll do.
> 
> Boy oh boy is there some extreme hc’ing going on in here. You guys have no idea. Got some ideas from [alcordraws](http://alcordraws.tumblr.com), of course, but I’ve crafted an entire theory and idea surrounding this newest ego of Mark’s. But we’ll get more in-depth with him in his oneshot, this is King’s story.
> 
> What’s this? Foreshadowing? Suspense? Hmm. Maybe this story isn’t all fun and laughs after all. (it’s me what were you even expecting)
> 
> Anyway! Have fun trying to figure out what’s going on. I’m not telling. ;)

Easel, check.

Table, check.

Paints, check.

Palette, check.

Paint brushes, check.

Canvas, check.

Beret and scarf, check.

Sanity...

Gonna say a maybe on that one. But nobody ever said it was a necessary component for creating art. No, all he needed was the tools and his heart. The rest would all fall into place, no matter his mental state.

Artiplier was one of the newest egos. Spontaneously appearing after Mark's skit and only growing stronger with subsequent videos. The art-based game, in particular, cemented his existence in the community. Some of the other egos had taken to calling him "Artie," which he supposed he didn't really mind. It was their creative interpretation.

(And it was more tolerable than how many times they'd asked for him to draw them.)

Here, however, there were no chatty, curious egos to interfere with his process. No requests or questions or peering over his shoulder while he tried to focus. There was just the natural light of the sun, a cool breeze stirring the leaves of his muse and the enticing smell of fresh paint. He could never get enough.

He'd been warned about this particular tree, of course. Apparently, one of the other egos had taken up residence in it with a bunch of squirrels. They'd never met, but from the stories, the ego sounded a bit violent.

Well, he was sure it was nothing he couldn't handle. This tree was his latest muse; his inspiration. He had a dire urge to immortalize its visage on canvas and nothing was going to stop him. It was like an itch which needed to be scratched. A sneeze tingling in the back of his nose. His fingers twitched and flexed with the want to grasp a brush. No other focus would do.

So he set to work, unaware of King watching him from the boughs. The monarch was suspicious after everything that happened, but the new ego didn't seem dangerous or antagonistic. It looked like he was just painting the tree. There was no real problem with that.

The squirrels were anxious, though. They'd been disturbed too much over the last few days. They chittered and scurried around King; on top of him. They wanted answers. They wanted reassurance. King could hardly blame them. Gently, he soothed his subjects, and shifted to the outer boughs once again. At least this time, he wasn't chasing off an offender. Clearing his throat, he called out to the strange artist. "Uh, hello? Excuse me?"

Artie tch'd under his breath as the sudden disturbance caused his brush to skid too far across the canvas. His eye twitched, almost unnoticeably, but a static started up in his outer ear. He shook his head a bit, rubbing at his ear with a shoulder irritatedly. Sharp brown eyes strayed grudgingly from his future masterpiece to meet an almost identical brown amidst the leaves. Artie had a talent for picking out minute details, but even he couldn't make out the king's entire form. Seeing him in the tree, however, shifted the appearance of his muse.

It changed things. _He..._ Artie didn't like changes. Not unless they were made by _**him**_.

His eye twitched again, but perhaps if he was amicable, the ego would retreat. He forced a charming smile onto his lips and gestured a dramatic wave in greeting. " _Bonjour_. You muzt be zis "King" I 'ave 'eard zo much about. I 'ope I am not intruding upon your... _kingdom_. I merely wish to paint zis... tree of yours." He wasn't French- the accent was just as much of a horrid exaggeration as it had been from Mark. But he felt compelled to do it.

King's nose scrunched up. Apparently, he wasn't a fan. "Well, I don't have a clue who you are. But I guess if you're just painting it's fine. It's not _my_ tree, anyway. It's my subjects'. They're... nervous, though. Are you sure you just want to paint?" Something about the ego was just... off. Some aspect was setting his subjects' fur on end.

Artie scoffed. He worked on mixing a color or two he would need, as he couldn't paint properly and carry a conversation at the same time. Painting required his upmost focus. "Of courze. I want nozing else from you or your... euh... "subjects." Now if you would, you are dizturbing ze _art_. I cannot captchor ze natural _magnifique_ of ze tree wiz you zere."

King frowned, his brows furrowing. Something still didn't seem right. "Oh. Sorry. Well..." He glanced back at the nests, at his anxious subjects, and sighed. "Look. Would it be okay if I just... came and watched? I mean, to make sure you're doing a good job. This tree's important to the squirrels and they'd be real upset if you fudged it up man." That was as good an excuse as any to get a closer look at the mysterious ego. Maybe King could figure out what had his subjects so unsettled.

It was Artie's turn to scrunch up his nose. His grip tightened on his paintbrush. He disliked having an audience. He already had one set of eyes on his painting, always, and that alone was too much. The static was buzzing in his ears again. R̵a̴d̴i̸o̷ ̸c̵h̸a̸t̷t̵e̶r̷ ̵c̵o̵n̸v̷e̶y̶i̷n̵g̸ ̸d̶i̵s̵l̴i̴k̶e̷.̵ He concurred. "I'm... iz zat really necessary? It's just paint." His accent slipped a little, in his irritation. Fuck.

Alright, something was definitely up. If it was really just "paint," then the ego should have no problems with King watching. He scowled a bit and began clambering down. "Yeah. Look, it may not be _my_ tree, but it isn't yours either, and its owners would feel a _lot_ more comfortable if their illustrious king scoped out this weird possible threat okay? It's not a big deal. I won't bother you or anything, I just wanna see."

"Zis really izn't necessary." Artie repeated, a bit more monotone. The static was buzzing louder in his ears, edging with a soft ringing that blocked out the peaceful day he'd been listening to prior. The colors before him shifted, but still he tore his gaze from the approaching King in favor of painting. Painting always calmed himh̷̟̎i̸͎̚ṁ̴̨. He just needed to focus.

"Oh, I think it's _very_ necessary." King argued, lowering himself down branch by branch, his subjects watching him with a clear concern. He shot them a reassuring smile.

Artie exhaled harshly from his nose, painting with a bit more fervor. The buzzing hadn't lessened or ceased, and the ringing was growing louder. It started translating into his painting, his visions, his actions. More circles. Lines. Figures... no. No figures. It was a tree. He squeezed his eyes shut for a few moments h̷͓͈̄̚ê̴̫̄l̵͈͛̿ḽ̶̿ȏ̸͚ and set back to work. This wasn't as relaxing as he thought it would be. "Fine. _Fine_. Just shut up already would you? I can't..." He grumbled under his breath, splotching harshly at the canvas with his brush.

King's feet finally touched the ground. He looked over at the ego, eyebrows slightly raised. The artist seemed a lot more agitated now. Twitcher and jerkier in his movements. Sure, maybe King had irritated him, but this was a little extreme. The muttering under his breath was concerning King. "Hey..."

Another line jerked too far. _Fuck_. Artie's entire face was tense with a newfound strain as he tried to fix it. No more static, now, just a steady ringing. It reverberated in his skull, hurt his brain, but still he painted. He ignored King. Artie was on a roll now. The colors flowed, his passion spilled out onto the canvas like blood and he was incensed. He couldn't stop now. He _couldn't_. He had to paint. He had to finish it, yes, he could see it. He could see h̴̢͈̕ii̴͎͛tm̵͓͕̍.

The closer King drew to the ego, the more uncomfortable _he_ felt. The ego hadn't said a word to him in the last five minutes. (He'd hesitated by the tree, watching warily from what he considered a "safe zone.") He just kept muttering viciously under his breath, glowering at the canvas and painting with a fervor King had never seen before. The closest comparison he had was perhaps one of Yandere's fits, but this was much different. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Still, if this ego was actually a threat, his subjects were depending on him to take care of it. Unstable egos with good or neutral intentions were every bit as dangerous as stable ones with malcontent. "Hey. You... you're not looking too good. Are you okay? Can you even hear me? Hey!"

"̴̖͍I̴̬̓͑͂͝ẗ̸̡̡̮͚́ ̴̢̠̣͓͛̋̑͘s̴̨̥͙͂̿̾͝ͅe̶̩͗͌ḛ̴̠̮̭̓̀s̵̥̟̖̅̑͌ͅ,̵̨͇̬̾̈́ ̸͉̪̈́̄̏͛h̷̩͙̿ĕ̷̥̩͑́ ̶̥̹̑̈́ͅś̵͚ȩ̸̪̰͖̄̓e̶͇̔̽̿͠s̵̡͈͈͌̂̏͘,̶̦̉͛̚͝ ̸̧͎̫̐i̸͓͔̻̒̄ţ̸̗̗̙̏͐ ̸͇̩̽͑s̸̗͎͈͝e̸͍͈͌̿e̶̡͎̝͌̃s̴̘̅̓ ̶̞͆m̵̬͎̉͝ĕ̸͙̬͒,̵̱̟̮̞͐̉̑͘ ̵̤̠̱̤́i̷̢̪͌t̴͚̒͆̉ ̶̞͕̤͗͜s̵̝̃̈͘ě̷̲͓̝̝̏̓͋e̷̡̟̲̣͆̐s̷̼̙͖̆ ̷͇̦̟͚̓͐͝a̵̘͙̖̘̾̆͆̍l̷͖̬ḽ̷̉̈͗,̵͔̀́͛ ̷̰̃̒͠i̶̠͉̊̎t̷̟̖̎͐̃ ̷̻̜̲̬̽͛́̚s̴̝̈͋̒͂e̷̺͐̚e̸̲̖̪̕ṡ̵͕̼̋̑͜ ̷̨̗͓̌̀̔̀ṵ̵̖͝s̶̫̜̓̓̽͜,̶͚̈́̉ ̸͓̭͆͆͆̈́i̶̛͕̜̿̃t̶͓̪̠̪͑̑͂ ̶̛͙͖̰̝͑̏s̷͇͇̞̩̆̐e̶̘̫̟̞͝ē̶͈̾͝s̸̭̳͎̓̃̕ ̷̫̝̰͌̒͐t̶̻͍̉̈͆̚h̸͇̑̂ī̵̥̥̙s̵̺̯̺̗̅,̸̯̟̣̈́ͅ ̵͍̹̈ỵ̵̜̈́͠o̷͇̳̅u̵͖̍̍͑,̸̖͛̊̚ ̵̭͖̉̄̊͆ͅi̶̛̻̿̊̓t̸̡̨͉̖̋̈́͂̾ ̶̳̜̥͐k̴̦̔͝ǹ̴͈ȏ̷̢̠̲͈͆̉͘w̸̡̖͎̫̐̾s̷̨̠͛̊,̴̤̀̍̅ ̸̗̙̙̠̍͝i̵̺͎̥͗͘ͅt̴̨̨͑̄'̴̢̞̗͘s̸̛̯̔͝͝ ̴̡̛͔̭͈̈t̴͈͆̓ẽ̷̗̝͙̋l̸̪̬̫̎̓̑͗l̷͔̞͉͐͒͑̚į̷̹͓͋n̴̨͈̥͑̌̌̑ĝ̶̯̤͕̠̏̃ ̸̢̩̞͉͒͊͛͝m̷̪͛̄̽̚e̷̖̭͂̐͜͝,̵̧͚̼̲̋̄ ̴̦̽ȉ̷̲̻̙̈t̸̼̗̮͗'̶̥̖̈́͂s̷̹̳͍̣̉ ̷̼͈̳̓̍̕͝t̶̮͈̊e̸͙̭̰̣͝l̸͚̳͑l̴̩̑i̴̙̖͋n̵̼̞̘̄͗͝g̶̫̉̍ ̸͖̑y̴̻̩̦̼̓̓͠o̷̘̜̤̿u̷̞͛͆̈,̸̩̖̈́͐ ̵̩̪͎́͆t̵̪͑̍̃h̴͍͓̍͆i̶̗̭͆͜s̵̢̱̫̅͒̔̕,̷̡̱͊͑̇̆ ̶̙̳̘͑̓͛̉t̸̙̙͌̈́h̵̠̳͎͗̂i̷̺̽š̵̨̯̮͒̈́ ̴̧͋͑ͅi̷̡̯̩͆̓̉̔ͅs̸̰̈́̆ ̵̘̌ā̵̗̪͈̣r̶͔̜̟̃͑́͜ṭ̶̣̜̗͗̔͂,̴̹͊̀̕͘ ̴̡̛̼̅̐̂I̴̫̙͚͐͂͂͠ ̴̛̠̭͎̺̒̐f̵̧̙͆̾̓̽o̵̩̹̾̀͌͜͜u̷̧̮͠ñ̴͉͈̪d̷̫̲̅̋ ̷̨̥̰̹͊̽͝i̶̲̻̼͊͑t̷̞,̶̠̄̈́̾͝ ̴̹̗͖̀͐͊͊f̶̢̦̈ö̵͜u̴͎̱̗͙͐̉̿̑ṅ̵̜͇̻͇̊̉d̶̬̈́͛̿͘ ̵̡̗͍̒̂̇y̷̜͉̕o̶͔̲͗̒ǔ̸̞̻̮̟̎̇̚,̷̱̫̊ ̵̦͋͑͑̑f̴͈̺̱̹̀̍̉͝o̷̗̍̒̃ṷ̸̪̇̋̌n̴̯̋̒d̵͈̜͙̔̅͝,̶͛ͅ ̸̩̄d̴̟̺͛ố̸͓n̷̟'̷̢̘͇̈́̔ṱ̸̮͈̭̒͆͝,̴̘͙̽͂͛̃ ̶̪̎͑̃̉d̸̲͚̏̐̽o̴̝͛͂̒͝n̸̹͕̜̯͛̄'̸̮̳̕ͅt̵̻͇̦̠͝ ̶̢̦͇̻͊̑l̸̖̭̰̿͐o̷̜͍̲̤̚ơ̵̗̳̻̑̕͠ǩ̵͎̠̟̽͝ͅ,̷̢̦̒̉͜͝ͅ ̶͙͔̠͉̿̌d̸͎̽̊͘͠o̴̡̅͊̄n̴̳͓̅̄̒̔'̵͎̐t̴͔̩͋̎͜ ̴͚̳̹͓̏̈́a̵̩͒t̸̢̥̮̆ ̵̧͕͖̤̓ḭ̷̠̣͇̓t̴͙͈̐̍͗̉͜,̴̩̬͈̊̚ ̴̻̻̍̄ą̸̾͊͝t̶̟̩̗̭̐͌ ̴̼̲̑͆͂m̵͔͌e̴̟͉̥̓̾͌,̵̗͋̉͘ ̶̖̋̔̈́̕d̷͎̋̍ö̶̡͉͕̲́͂̉͐n̵̮͉͚͌͛̎'̷͓̠̍̎̏t̶͔͗͠,̴̮̫̭͌̎̐͋͜ ̵̖̎̀t̵̙̣͌̽h̵̬̆i̸͈̜̽̆̃͜͝s̶̨̨͇̲̾͠ ̶͇͇̤͆̈ẅ̵̲́̕ä̷̰͇̙͖́͒s̸̱̞̈́͊̏ ̶̻͐͒̕ā̵̮̆ ̴̡̘̰̔m̷̨̮̜̈͑͝i̶̲̒̂̓s̴̜̻͖̎̐̋ṭ̵̺̳͇͗a̵̻͔͛́k̷̟̗͖͙͠ȅ̶̜̭,̶̧̮̦͎̇̏͝ ̸̢̫̣̑̇t̷̬̖͆͆̎ḧ̸̢̬́͋͐i̷̲̩̓̑s̵̱̣,̶̭̠̈̏̏͝ ̵̨̠͔̈́̕̕ͅĪ̸̦̣͕͊ ̷͙̈́͋a̷̖̥͈̘̓́m̶͕͋͗̕ ̷͇̠̈́͗̕͠s̷̲̆͋̕͝o̵͉͍͆̐r̶̰̺̮̤̆̂̓͝r̷̤̭̫̽y̴̩̓.̸͎͈̮̰͊̽̉̚"̷̛̯

King squinted. "What?" He could have sworn the ego was still muttering to himself, but there was no real _sound_. He couldn't make out any of it. Closer, like this, King could see the sweat that had formed on the ego's brow. He didn't understand. The day wasn't even that hot. "Hey. Listen to me. Uh... Artiplier? Right? Hey!"

R̴̛̲͖̼̫͓͝e̸̖͈͎̳͉͓̗͂̃̈̊͒̾͠d̵̥̠̥̙͉̞̊ ̶̥̣͔͔̣̋̈́̋̚M̶͓̪̣͍̝̦̥͛̏̾̿̉̆̚͠ǎ̵̼̏͠n̶̢̼̫̘͚͉͚̆̉͐̈́͐͘,̵̜̦̞͍̼̾̏̉́͝ ̵͓̘͚͖̫̩̟̫̓̃͂̉͛Ṛ̵̣̝̪̒̾͗̏̓̾ͅe̸̡̨̢̡̗̤͒̏ḍ̴̗͚̬̱͎̼̬͓̀͑̄ ̵̜͖̫̙̠̞͛͑̀̑͒̋̈́͜M̵̧͖͍̔̂͆̊̒̇͗̆̑ā̷̡̞͕͕͉n̴͔̮̎̅͊͌,̵͍͉͈͕̩͕̋̔͛̆̋̎͝ ̵̢̢̦̣̙̦̅̓̃̒͊́̔̐͝w̴̦͋͜h̸̡̧̙̀̿͋̀͝ȧ̶̛̛̝͙̯̞̗͎̑̕͝t̵̨͉̬͕̤̻̖̳͑̑̈́̔̕ ̶͔̰̹͓̦̤̙̈́͊̕d̴̨̤̲̹̖̯̾̈͊͊̅̊͊͊ͅo̸̢̤͐̃͛ ̴̭̳̯̲͕̤̋̂͝͝ͅy̶̦̱̤̩͉͈͉̍̋͋̓͜o̴̤͌̌͌͊́̔̕͠u̴͈̯̜̦̳͇̾̿̍͠ ̴̠͙͐̏̚s̸̭̣͕̙̒̐̃̎e̵̤͛ȅ̷̡̝̪̄̎͐̈̌?̵̨̢̤̞̹̗̭͊̇̈́̆

King couldn't stand it anymore. He was really getting freaked out. Briskly, he rounded the canvas, reaching out to touch the ego's shoulder.

R̶̡͎̘̮̜͕̟͎̈́ẹ̴̫̫̜̼̒͊d̵͍͙͎̺̞̝̟͆̆̂̃͌͠ ̶̘̰̟̱̀͂Ṃ̶̛͕̎̿̉̐̂̑̊ą̷̢͔̝͓̞͔͉̾̈̌̋̐͜͝ń̶͓̅͒̂̓ ̵͇̹͇̬͌s̵̡͈̠͉̿̈́̑͘e̸̗̜̙̔̋͆͗̈̎͜͝e̸̢̲̭̬̹̰͎̳̥̲s̴̜͚̭̤͖͙̺̏͒͐͆̂̾͗͘͠͝ ̴̮̪̻͙̺̫͚͈̜͌͂͊̅͑͆̐̓̚͝ͅṭ̴̨̗̊̅͛͌͑̕ḩ̸̨̺̦̉̎̑̊̓͒͒͌e̸̢̨̡̱̣̭̼̱̞̎͂̇̽̀̑̚ͅ ̸̨̤̬̞̬̟̩͋͐͛̆̋̕͘͠ḑ̴̼̹̝̠̓͆ͅȩ̶̢̫̭̙̝̻̝̌̐̀̌̔̈́̚̕̚͜s̸̻̬̥̗̾ͅţ̴̢̗͈͉̳̺͕͌͌͛́̚͠r̶̜̺̝̱̱͙͛̅͆̿̽̾͋͝͝ͅu̸̢͓̜͇͔̘̼̔̚͝c̴̨̨̢̨̛̥̩̜͎͙̝͑͆͌̃̚ţ̷̨̯̱̙̖̰̯̥̯̽̏̓ī̷͈͍̔̒̀̃̅͝ọ̸̺͇͈̼̀̌͗͘͘̕̚n̶̡͉̪̖̠͔̼̹͔͈͆̃́̏̓́͠ ̵̨̜̦̗̬̒̃̑o̷̩̠̓̈́̂f̸̧͚͎̤̋̓̓̈́̌͝͝͠ ̶̡̗̻͓̣͉̤̻̥̍̉̈́̑̓͊a̴̤̹̫͖̘͙̾͌̈́l̷̟̤̱͊̚l̵͇͈̩͐̈́͒͂̇͐͜ ̵̤̳͈̻̳̪̲̩̚͜t̶͕̣̱̱͍̺͔́̋͗͋̎͑͋ͅh̶͇̏͐ḭ̶̼͎̺̏̑ń̴̩͎̠̳̖̥̥̓̑̍̈́͒͆͗͠g̵̛͉̺̲̬̖̰̎̈́́͆̆͘͘͝ͅs̷̫͇̯͈͖̫͂͐̓̈́͂̀̂̑̕͝,̸̢̼̰̻̫̚ ̸̨̛͙̹̺̎͋͂̾͋͊õ̶̬̱͙̣̹̠̝̬̟͠f̶͖̜͇̘̮̞̺͊̕͜ͅͅ ̴̧̬̘̜͙̠͐͘͝ẏ̸̢̱̟̥͙̠̗̆̓̾̍̐̽̈͘̚͜ơ̷͍̯̼̰̬̑̀͆̿͋̕͘͘u̷̬̱̦̱͎̗̖̦̩̬̔̽̎̑,̸̨̣̬̝͔̣̣̗̖̇͗̓͊ ̶̧̗̿̿̂̎͝ö̷͍̫͚̜́f̸̟͕͎̗̍̾̓̽͘̕͝ ̶̧̪͙̖̝̝͎̦̆͂̓̇̍̿͒̅̿͘͜͜m̸̝̭̥͒̽̂̒̅̍̈̄͑e̸̛͓͍͐͊͌̆͘͘͝.̷͖͇̻̩́̓̚͜

Artie jolted as if struck by lightning. His palette and paintbrush both flew out of his hands as he outright _screamed_ , absolutely stunned by the touch. By King's interruption. He whirled, knocking his canvas from the easel and ripping his shoulder away from King's grasp. His brown eyes were wide, face covered with sweat while he gawked in terror at King- _through_ King. Surprisingly, his pupils were blown.

King stumbled a step back himself at the reaction. "Woah! Woah, hey, what's-"

"̵̦̲̮̬̝̤͛̏͌͗̿͂̇̏̐̚͘Ḩ̴̛̫̜̩͉̈́̒͆͗͗̒͘̚͝ơ̶̠͈̽̔̽̍͋̋̏̒̚m̸͍̗̀͊͊̚͝͠m̸̼͙͒͛̌́͊͗e̴̤̊͋̎̓̌̿͝͝ ̴͎͉̦̭̗͔̣͍͋̃R̴̩͓̤̣͓̦̈́̂̿ͅơ̷̠͐́̅̀́͂̚ͅu̶̯͕̗͇̤͍͛͑͜g̸̢͎̳͚̦͉͔̀ͅe̶̫͕̯̠͇͈̰̓͑̔̍͆̒,̸̺̖̱̿̽̌ ̶̢̼̗͓̌̍̄̀̕͝͠n̵̯͐̍̋o̴̡͎͛̂n̴͍̣̓̌ͅ,̶̀ͅ ̸̡̧̞̯̙̯̲̀̏̈́̈́̇͐͜ͅn̴̰̪̠̫̭̫̯̩͚̩̩̈̆̈́ǒ̷̢̡̖̮̲̪̺͔̟̱̺ņ̷̣̝̟͚͆̆̒̈́͊͜,̸̢̛͔̟̼͕̱̆̽̒̏̓̑ ̶͇̝̮̩͓̗͈͖̘̱͈̉̊̃͆̇͒̈́͠N̷̼̭͛͜͝ā̶̟̤͉͉͔̺̞̣͑̑͑̃͗̐̉̓͘ͅͅḭ̷̡̨̤͓̪͕̈́̆̌͘ṅ̷̢̛̪̗͎̬̪̼͈͍͉̆̈́͆̂̕,̴̡̥͈̄̊ ̴̧̢̯͇̱̰͖͔̳̽͑̽͜͠r̶͓̞̟͚̘̺̈́͋̇̃̆͊͜͜o̸̼͑̀̿͗ű̴͙̮͇̲̟̞̹̋̔̄g̶̟̱̣̪̦̾̇̂̾͜ȩ̷̔̋̇,̵̧͖̫͇̲̰̼̹͑̌͌͑̇̈́̒͆ ̷͙͇̼̞̆̎͛̾͌̈́̌̿̚͜͠c̶̢̨͇̝̜̲̏̅̓͂̍̄̃͛̀̎ö̷̧̬̦̹́́̉̊̔̏̂̀̂ņ̴̧̝̩̖̻̺̾͂̄͐̌̄̿͌͝ḏ̸̢̲͊̏̊̐͐̌̿͗͘̚a̶̛̖̙̤̗m̵̭͓̘̰̗̩͎͙̮͙̑̃̇͐̂̑̄̅ņ̷͇͚͈̥͕̲͕̙͇̖̽̊͝ȩ̸̛̟̼͙͈͍̩̦͚̥̞͛̈́̀͒̅͂̃̕͝r̷̢͖̭̜̔̀̉̏̈́̓̕,̴̡̤̦̙̘͚̯̩̏̈̓̊̑́̋͒͜ ̸̛̛̻̩̤̬͍̞̼͕̩̰̦̆͑͆̅̈́̓͘͘ḟ̶͙͇̱̯̤̤̳̘̍̾ͅų̸͖͚͓͖͖̏͜͝y̵̱͊̾̈́͛̀͑͗͛̆͘e̵̖̔͋̆͌̈̄̆̐̚̕͝z̶̢̢̛͓͇̎̎͋̃.̷̮̾͋̓̐̽͝͠.̴̢̛̙̞̼̮͚̭̲̜͚̃ͅ.̷͈̍͑̐̂́"̴͕͉͚̩̖̤̩̗͝ It was a stream of nonsensical words, Artie scrubbing at his face and tugging briefly at his hair. He finally seemed to actually look at King, just for a moment, repeating one of the words. _"Fuyez!"_ Then he turned on his heel and fled from the scene, as if he had just committed murder. He tripped on a leg of his table, sending paints and the water jar flying, but paid the mess no mind at all.

"Hey! What the hell?! Come back! What did I do? You forgot all your stuff." King tried shouting after him, absolutely gobsmacked, but was ignored. He watched the ego flee into the building with a deep frown. "...well, at least he's gone, I guess. That was weird." He sighed, wondering if he'd need to clean up the mess.

It was then he noticed the fallen canvas and quirked his eyebrows. "Oh. He left this too. I wonder if he'll want it back?" King could always just leave it in the board room or something next time he trekked into the building for supplies. Curious, he reached down to carefully lift the canvas off the grass. The painting itself had probably been marred from the fall, but surely he could still see where the ego had been going with it. Maybe the image would give him some insight as to why its creator flipped every last shit he had.

It was a rather rudimentary painting of grass and the tree. King would have snorted, because of course, they all knew Mark couldn't paint. Not well, at least. Not to art society's "standards." However, one glaring abnormality to the piece stole any humor from his throat. He stared at it, now a bit wide-eyed himself.

Glancing back up at his actual tree posed no answers. He couldn't understand where this anomaly came from. Was the ego on drugs?

The sketchy, blotchy red figure of a man was painted squarely over the image of his tree. Its triangular chest almost seemed to split the trunk in two, and even without eyes, King swore the stick man was staring him down from the canvas.

"Uncomfortable" wasn't a strong enough word.

_King left the painting in the dumpster outside the building, but he did try to return the ego's supplies. When he settled back in his tree, he tried to ignore the fact he could still see the little red man on the backs of his eyelids. It was just an image. I̴t̸ ̴w̷o̴u̵l̷d̷ ̵g̶o̵ ̷a̵w̸a̷y̷.̶_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. That was ominous.


	9. carving for senpai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a beautiful day. Birds are singing, there's not a cloud in the sky, and teenagers are chasing true love.
> 
> King just wishes they'd do it a little further from his tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha... so this is Yandere's chapter. Do I even need to warn you about the impending blood and violence and deranged-ness? It's Yandereplier. Shit's gonna get a little real here.
> 
> Oh, and a small warning for animal abuse threats. No squirrels were actually harmed in the making of this chapter.

"He loooves me, he loves me not. He loooooooooves me, he loves me not."

King was roused from a late afternoon nap by the sound of a voice. It was far, far too close to the tree and he was honestly surprised his subjects hadn't woken him sooner. Scrubbing the sleep from his eyes, he looked around, fearful something might have happened to them.

Thankfully, they were all gathered nearby, perfectly safe and sound. Though the fact they all appeared to be watching something perked his interest. It was odd for them not to be panicking or going into a frenzy at someone so close to their nesting boughs. Maybe that meant the interloper wasn't a threat? Then again, they'd been freaking out over Artiplier, and he hadn't proven antagonistic. Just weird. King was _still_ trying to sort out that particular encounter.

Heaving himself away from his preferred nest of overlapping branches and leaves, King shimmied out to his usual perch when it came to dealing with those on the ground. The squirrels parted and made space for him, but otherwise didn't tear their gazes away from the mop of bloody crimson bobbing along below.

Oh God. There was only one ego who'd kept that color throughout all of Mark's hairstyle transitions.

Yandereplier hummed happily as he plucked another petal from the daisy he held. His grip on the poor thing could only be likened to a stranglehold. "Senpai _loves_ me." He giggled and gave a happy little sigh, setting the petal in a little pile on his lap. He was sitting beneath the tree, his back to the trunk, and there were several mangled flower stems scattered on the grass around him.

His fingers plucked- no, _ripped_ \- off another petal. "Senpai loves me _not_." Yandere's voice dipped into a deeper, more dangerous register as he glowered at the little petal. Rather than dropping it into the pile with the others, he proceeded to mangle the bit of flora between his thumb and forefinger.

King could only compare the sight to someone squashing a particularly disgusting, annoying bug. Worse yet, Yandere proceeded to _eat_ the remnants, chuckling darkly to himself.

"Yeah, right, as if that's true. Senpai _loooves_ me, of course. Stupid flower petals." Having apparently run out of both petals and flowers to mutilate, Yandere carelessly tossed the empty stem away. He looked down at the petals in his lap with an adoring expression. "You're my lucky little charms! I'm gonna press all of you into the photo album I have of senpai. One for every page, so I know for a fact he _must_ love me!" Yandere's fists were clenched, and there was an eager, violent gleam in his eyes.

King felt his insides shudder. Fantastic. Of all the egos to decide hanging around his tree, it just had to be this one. Artiplier might have been a little unstable too, but at least he'd been harmless. King didn't need to _see_ a knife to know Yandere had one on his person. It was a constant.

No wonder his subjects were just watching. Any little thing could set Yandere off. They weren't stupid. The only reason they hadn't vacated the premises entirely was because of the babies. They were just as on-edge as he felt; anxiety gripping at their hearts, at the possibilities.

Maybe, if they just stayed quiet, Yandere wouldn't even realize they were there. Yandere was always absorbed into his own world anyway. If he was just going to pick flower petals and sing and mutter to himself about his senpai, then there was no problem. He'd eventually get bored and leave, and everything would settle back to normal. King knew he didn't have to reiterate this point to his subjects, but he made a "shushing" gesture anyway. Nice and easy.

Yandere had been humming while he delicately slipped the petals into a plastic baggy and sealed it up, stuffing it down his shirt. King had no idea how that kind of logic worked, as the shirt was so loose on Yandere that anything inside should immediately fall out, but then Yandere never really followed the rules. Of anything. Including the universe.

The uniformed ego rose to his feet with another happy hum, dusting off the back of his skirt. He combed fingers through his hair; meticulous and anxious. King might have found the display endearing, if it wasn't for the fact he'd seen both hair and hands covered in blood more than once. "Now, let's see. I came out here for a reason, I wanted to do something super special kawaii desu ne for senpai~ Something that would be around forever and ever and _ever_ , **_just like our love._** " King shuddered when Yandere's voice dropped to a rumbling growl again and ducked a bit further into his tree.

Yandere, however, was still sunshine and rainbows for the most part as he turned around to face said tree. "Oh yeah~! I remember now. I wanted to immortalize my love for senpai~ Trees are around for _centuries_ , just like our love will be. And it's soooo romantic!" He pulled out the knife King had been waiting trepidatiously for and held it up, a wicked grin on his face and that same dangerous gleam in his eyes.

"Oh, fuck, he's gonna carve up the tree...." King muttered almost inaudibly under his breath. He could see his subjects immediately grow agitated and tried to quiet their angry chitters. "No, no, shhh. It's better that knife go in the tree than in you, I'm sorry, I know, it's too dangerous. Just calm down... shh..."

Yandere, thankfully, seemed oblivious for the moment. Too wrapped up in his fantasies, most likely. "...and when we're oooold and graaay I can bring senpai here to this tree, and we can smile and laugh at the cute little heart with our names in it~ Uguuu, it's so sweet, I think I might just die!" He heaved a ragged breath, the knife trembling a little in his grasp as a faraway look entered his eyes. It only lasted for about ten seconds, then the "peaceful serenity" returned with another giggle. "But not before senpai~!"

King watched Yandere move up close to the tree, tracing the blade along the old bark. He attempted to pull his subjects in close to his body; to comfort and soothe them and prevent impending disaster. He was only minutely successful. It was clear as day the squirrels wanted to jump in and defend their tree as they had against all the other egos.

Yandere wasn't like the other egos. Yandere might not hold any reality warping abilities, but he was by far the loosest cannon- even compared to Wilford. Wilford probably wouldn't harm King or his subjects on purpose. Yandere, on the other hand...

King's mind drifted back to the incident where Billy had stolen shirt scraps from Yandere's room. The ego had been utterly furious, near to foaming at the mouth with eyes wild and crazed like a rabid animal. He'd threatened to catch King's squirrels and skin them all alive. To make a hat out of their fur for his precious senpai. He said it'd be easy, like skinning a person but less work, or like dissecting an animal in biology class.

King had returned the scraps and proceeded to take all of his subjects into deep hiding for over a week. He only ever ventured out for supplies, and every time he did, he swore he felt himself being watched from the shadows. Eventually, Yandere's mind shifted to more current transgressions, but King always worried the ego held a grudge.

"It's gotta be perfect. The very bestest spot for senpai! Riiiiight... here!" Abruptly, Yandere rammed his knife deep into the tree. It practically sank to the hilt, and the brief display of power set all the tree's inhabitants to cowering.

"See? He'll kill you if you bother him, just let him carve his stupid thing and maybe he'll leave," King whispered, fretting. All the squirrels had taken to hiding within his clothes and cape; one even tucking away beneath his marvelous crown. He sighed in relief. At least they were listening to him. The last thing they needed was to draw any attention to themselves.

With some effort, Yandere wrenched his blade from the tree, and began the ardous task of carving into the bark. He traced out a jagged heart first, of course. Then came the more precise art of drawing out the names. He lean in close, eyes squinting and tongue poking out as he focused on every tiny line. It had to be perfect. Perfect for his perfect senpai. Only the best. Nothing else would do. In his contentment, his intermittent humming shifted to soft singing. _"I love senpai, yes I do~ He's for me, not for you~"_

So far, so good. Yandere hadn't noticed any disturbances. Surely, surely after he completed his task, he would leave. King watched from his perch, holding and comforting his agitated subjects. They were furious, understandably so, and he was irritated as well. Unfortunately, there was nothing they could do. The best course of action was no action at all. He'd make it up to them, somehow.

Of course, King had discovered fate quite enjoyed toying with him at this point. Just as it seemed Yandere was scratching out the last "e" in his name, King felt something wet and sticky drip from his chin. His heart stopped and his eyes widened. _Oh no._

A small glob of peanut butter landed on the curve of Yandere's wrist, giving him pause. He blinked out of what appeared to have been some sort of trance, turning his attention to the smudge of light brown. Slowly, his head tilted, as if he were attempting to process the information. King watched with baited breath, hugging his subjects closer and silently cursing his majestically nutty beard.

Yandere's head snapped up without warning, deadened brown eyes locking onto King in a single breath. King choked, feeling frozen in place by that merciless gaze. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck **fuck**._

He wanted to speak, to say something, but he'd lost track of his words and his breath just wouldn't come out right. Yandere, nonplussed, didn't tear his gaze away from King as he brought the marred wrist up to his mouth. He licked the glob of peanut butter from his skin, agonizingly slow, never breaking eye contact. He didn't immediately swallow, or move, but when he finally did a spine-chilling smile slipped onto his serene face.

_"Denka...."_ The word slipped off Yandere's tongue thicker than the peanut butter he'd just consumed; a deadly purr which promised only pain and suffering. The grip on his knife had tightened, and he tore it from the bark with a wretched sound. "So. This is _your_ tree, is it?"

At last, King found his voice, though it was breathless and stuttering as he tried to placate Yandere while he was still apparently subdued. Maybe he could still avoid any violence or conflict. "N-no, no! It's- it's _just_ a tree. Just staying in it, that's all. No ownership over it or anything. Totally free tree! Just pretend I'm not even here." He held up his hands, praying Yandere would take his words and gestures at face value. He had a nasty tendency of reading far too deeply into things, and contriving his own meanings from them.

Yandere's grip hadn't visibly loosened any, though. The smile on his face escalated to a rather unhinged grin; showing off his pearly whites while his upper lip minutely twitched. He looked positively _manic_. "Oh, you can't fool me, _denka!_ I've heard the others. You won't let anyone near your precious tree. Won't let them come up there. Because you've got something to protect! Riiiiight?"

King swallowed hard. Normally, he'd be flattered that any aspect of his reputation preceded him. He was so often forgotten about, after all. However, in this particular instance, he wished his notoriety wasn't quite so high. It had only been causing him problems as of late. "I-I... uh... I mean, yes, but- I c-can make an exception...!"

"Awww, well isn't that generous of you." Yandere hummed sweetly, toying the point of his knife. He either didn't notice, or didn't care, when the deadly sharpness cut through the skin of his fingertip. A droplet of blood trickled down the blade, and King knew it wasn't the first- nor would it likely be the last. "Unfortunately, I _don't_! No exceptions for senpai! No exceptions for _anyone_! Senpai is _mine_ , everything about him, everything he owns, is mine, because senpai loves me _very much_ , and I love him, and _no one_ can be a part of that! No one can take that from me! _**No one!**_ " Yandere was practically screaming by the end of his rant, swinging his knife about dangerously.

King was uttering every last curse he knew in his head. This wasn't good. The situation was rapidly spiraling beyond his control, as it was wont to do with Yandere involved. Shifting gears, he ushered his subjects to the deeper branches; their nests and burrows. If all Hell broke loose, he didn't want them to be trapped with him. Yandere was more likely to attack the human target. "Yandere, c'mon, let's just talk about this..."

"No! No talk! The only voice I want to hear, is senpai's! The only eyes and face I want to see, are senpai's! You're not my senpai! You're just a silly king up in his tree! Well..." Yandere's grin, already chilling, turned utterly sick in appearance. His eyes were bloodshot suddenly, almost the same color as his hair. He was trembling, head low and twitching between his shoulders. "What's a _king_ to a _radical_ , anyway?"

King's breath caught in his throat. "Yandere, no-"

_**"YANDERE YES!"**_ The ego let loose a blood-curdling cackle and stabbed at the tree again. This time, however, he used it as leverage to pull himself up, planting his penny loafers firmly against the bark. His eyes were wild swirls of brown and red, his grin deranged and his bangs falling messily across his face.

King screamed on reflex. He couldn't help it. He had stemmed off of Mark's subconscious ideas, after all. Terrified, he looked wildly around, but they'd exhausted the last of the tree's walnuts on Ed. They had no defenses, besides their location, which was quickly becoming a moot point in the wake of Yandere's vicious determination. He was scaling the tree with a ferocity and reckless abandon, not caring for the bits of bark and wood he sent flying or the smaller branches he snapped off. So long as he reached his destination, he would be satisfied.

King only wished that destination wasn't _him_. If Yandere got up there, who knew how much damage the ego would cause. It could be a complete massacre. Everything King had worked so hard to protect and defend would be gone. Any remaining subjects he had would have lost faith in him, in his abilities as their king. He wouldn't be able to blame them.

_"One little, two little, three little squirrelies! Four little, five little, six little squirrelies! Seven little, eight little, nine little squirrelies! Lots of dead squirrelies laying all on the ground!"_

"Oh god, oh fuck, fuck, what am I gonna do, oh god, ffffffuck..." King gasped, panicking, tugging at his hair and pressing knuckles to his mouth. He could feel his heart racing wildly in his chest. He had to do _something_. Yandere was closing in; it would only be another minute or two before he was in the heart of the tree. Then it would be all over. King had to do _something_.

Yandere let loose another deranged chuckle, and the sound shook King to his very core. This was it. He had to do something. He couldn't just sit back and allow Yandere to terrorize his kingdom. He'd tried playing nice, and he'd tried being diplomatic. Clearly, diplomacy wasn't the answer here. Clearly, Yandere only understood one language: his own. If King couldn't get through to the murderous ego, then he'd have to stop him. Period.

He really wished there was a better way to do it.

Removing his cape, King carefully set his crown off to the side. His subjects sniffed at it warily, confused, but he merely shot them another reassuring smile and a thumbs up. "Don't worry. I've got this." Turning to look back down at Yandere, who was now far too close for comfort, King drew a deep breath. His chest was tight, but he knew what he had to do. There were no other options. No one was going to help him.

With a high-pitched shriek that was more terrified scream than ferocious battlecry, King threw himself down from his perch. He held out his cape in front of him and slammed hard into Yandere, sending them both plummeting to the ground below. Their mutual screams mingled into a terrible sound, only cut-off by the harsh impact of their combined weight meeting the grass. King had landed fully on Yandere, said ego's body covered almost entirely by the expanse of his cape. Beyond King's heaving breaths, there was silence again.

The impact had knocked the breath from his lungs. Once he regained enough of it, he grimaced. Yandere hadn't so much as twitched since they hit the ground. "Uhh..." Crap. What if King had killed him? Could he even kill another ego? What if Yandere snapped his neck, or broke his back, or smashed his skull against a branch on the way down? Could he come back from that?

Panic began creeping along the edges of King's consciousness. He ached all over, and there was a sharp pain in his side, but Yandere had completely broken his fall. Clearly, the smaller ego had taken the brunt of the damage. "Oh god."

Frightened to find himself looking into hollow, empty eyes or to see Yandere's neck twisted at a gruesome angle, King slowly pulled down his cape. He had to know. If he'd accidentally killed Yandere, if he'd committed ego murder...

He was met with a groan and a huffed exhale, and he felt his lungs seize deep within his chest. Yandere's head shifted, lolling slightly to one side, but otherwise he didn't stir. His eyes were closed, his face and mouth slack with unconsciousness. He was knocked out cold. Not dead, still breathing, not horribly disfigured or mutilated. King released a shuddering breath of his own, tension easing out of his muscles. "Oh thank god...."

With the false alarm came better awareness of his surroundings. King could hear the anxious chittering of his subjects and looked up. Several had meandered down the tree, clearly worried, while the rest remained near the nests as he'd requested. Their concern warmed his heart and brought a small smile to his face.

"It's okay, everybody! I'm okay! Just a little bruised up. I'll be just- _ah-_ " King sucked in a sudden, harsh breath as he started to pull fully away from the unconscious body beneath him. He hissed, wincing and grimacing, and pressed a hand to the side which had been twinging since they landed. He jolted again when his fingers brushed metal, slick and warm with some kind of liquid. His heart rose up into his throat and stayed there. "Oh..." The word was so soft it might as well have been just another exhale.

Slowly, scared of what he'd find, King lifted his arm and craned his neck to get a look at his torso. Color drained from his face. Yandere's knife was sticking out of his ribs, still gripped tightly in his hand. It had pierced through his robe and either skewered him upon landing, or Yandere had stabbed him during the fall.

Either way, he'd been hit. It wasn't extremely bad, seeing as he wasn't spitting up blood, but the wound wasn't exactly shallow. Hissing further, King knew attempting to wrench the weapon from Yandere was likely futile, even in his unconscious state. Desperately staving off the urge to hyperventilate and panic, he drew rapid breaths and carefully pushed his body up. A pained whimper slid out of him along with the knife, fresh blood gushing to stain his shirt and blend with the red of his cape. It was tannic and sharp in the air, making him want to gag. "Shit..."

Pressing a hand tightly to the wound made him grit his teeth and flinch, but he knew it was necessary. He needed to wrap the wound with something. Staring at his already ruined cape, he thought a silent "fuck it" and took advantage of the knife still sticking through the material.

It took a few minutes, but King managed to obtain a sizable chunk from the bulk of his cape. Yandere still hadn't stirred, which was a relief. King had no doubts the younger ego would be all too happy to finish the job. Wrapping the cloth around his torso, he made the makeshift binding tight as he dared and carefully knotted it off. By that time, sweat was beading on his brow, and he was feeling a little sick. He sat, heaving and gasping, until he felt a soft weight drop onto his shoulder.

Something fluffy and warm nuzzled along his jaw, and King's smile returned. "Billy..." He managed a weak laugh and reached up with his less bloody hand to gently stroke a finger along his subject's side. "I'll... I'll be okay. Thank you. Hang on."

King couldn't just leave Yandere by the tree. The moment he woke, he'd be right back on the warpath. No, King had to get him out of there. He wasn't looking forward to what would happen next, but like with everything else so far, he didn't have much choice. Setting his jaw and furrowing his brows, King wrapped the remains of his cape around Yandere and hefted him into his arms. His side absolutely screamed in protest, and he felt more blood trickle from the wound as he exerted the muscle there.

His knees wobbled. King cursed, quite colorfully, under his breath. Billy bumped in concern at his cheek again, and he forced up another weak grin. "I've got it. Don't worry." His voice was tight from the strain. Thankfully, Yandere wasn't _too big._ It was only a struggle to carry the ego because of King's injury. Stumbling and swaying, he made his way through the back door of Egos, Inc.

King wasn't certain if it would be advantageous to run into another ego or not. Seeing a bloody mess associated with Yandere was nothing new. However, apparently the egos weren't regarding him in a very happy or positive light nowadays. They might get the wrong idea if they spied him toting along an unconscious, bloodied Yandere.

No, it was probably for the best he didn't run into another soul along his journey.

Unsure of how else to handle the situation, King settled for locking Yandere in a closet. He'd be furious when he woke up, but unable to immediately seek vengeance- if he recalled who knocked him out in the first place. One of the other egos would eventually hear him screaming and pounding and _maybe_ come let him out. It wouldn't be King, that much was for sure.

With that threat out of the way, King could turn his attention to his wound. He winced as he realized he'd been trailing and tracking blood through the building. He was an ego, which meant he could withstand more than a normal human, but even he had his limits. He _should_ probably go see the doctor in the clinic. Yet... his gaze drifted out a nearby window, landing on the tree. If he went to the clinic, Dr. Iplier would restrict him to bedrest, and his subjects would be defenseless. Vulnerable. The mere thought alone constricted his lungs all over again.

No, no... King could manage. It was just a little cut. Yandere hadn't pierced anything vital. He wished he could at least swipe some painkillers or actual bandages before he left, but all of those supplies were in the clinic. Far too risky. He snatched a jar of peanut butter, a loaf of bread and a large bag of trail mix from the break room instead.

He'd survive. He could manage. Even though dragging his limping form back to the tree was an effort in and of itself. Heaving his body up the branches was worse, but once he was settled into his perch, he felt better. King pressed a hand to his side, grimaced, then forced another smile for his worried subjects. "I'll be okay. I'm glad none of you were hurt. Please don't worry about me."

The squirrels exchanged glances, intelligent creatures they were, before promptly swarming onto King. He gasped softly, but every squirrel was careful not to step on his wound. They linked up together, crossing paws and tails and fluffy bodies until they'd formed a sort of blanket over their injured ruler. It was getting late, with the sun setting beyond the leaves, and King was touched by the caring gesture. A tingle started up in his nose and his eyes burned with the threat of tears as he sniffed. "Guys..."

His lips wobbled, and he wrapped bloodstained arms around his loving subjects. He'd never felt so warm. This, their loyalty and trust, made everything worth it. Gradually, the pain in his abdomen lessened to a barely noticeable throb, and he was able to drift off to sleep. Comfortable with the knowledge his kingdom was safe once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... he's not... dead? :D


	10. blood and nuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Iplier wakes up to quite the aftermath...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are you guys sick of my sick puns yet or what

Dr. Iplier was accustomed to being one of the first awake in the morning. He had patients to tend to, after all, but on top of that he just didn't tend to get a lot of sleep in general. If the work didn't keep him up, the caffeine did, and he was currently in search of more.

There were few egos he chanced running into on his way to the break room. Host, occasionally, whose sleeping habits were possibly worse. However, he tended to stay in his library. Ed, perhaps, if he was headed off on an early fishing or hunting venture. He might come across Wilford, hyped on his own self-created sugar and doing Gods knew what at five in the morning. The rest of their odd cadre tended to sleep for at least another few hours- or, "charge," in the Googles' case.

Thus he was surprised when he heard a steady pounding. After rounding a corner to find blood, he was stunned even further. Not that blood was a rare sighting for him or in Egos, Inc. in general. He just hadn't been expecting it quite so early. He needed his morning coffee.

Sighing heavily and wondering what insanity had occurred now, Dr. Iplier rubbed harshly at his forehead. Coffee first, then the mysterious banging, _then_ the blood stains. Priorities set, he ignored the pounding on wood in favor of brewing a fresh pot. Spying more streaks of blood on the cupboard handles didn't exactly encourage his optimism about the situation. That probably meant it was an _ego_ bleeding all over the floors.

Dr. Iplier would like to believe the egos would come immediately to his clinic for medical attention if the need arose, but he wasn't so naive. Pride or foolishness or the sheer stubborn nature they all inherited from Mark kept them away more often than not, until they were found on the floor or Dr. Iplier dragged them to a hospital bed. Still, if the blood was everywhere, it was likely one of the more reckless or careless egos. Wilford? No need to be concerned, then. Silver? That could be bad. Dr. Iplier should probably be putting forth a more concerted effort with looking into this.

Well, the pounding was a good start. Stifling a yawn, Dr. Iplier wandered back out to the hall, following the sound to a broom closet. As he drew closer, he realized someone was speaking. The words were muffled, near drowned out by the fists slamming against wood. Blood coated the door and the floor here as well. Hesitantly, he leaned in, hoping to get a better listen.

_"...out... let... please... out... I don't... it... please... dark... breathe... out... hate...."_

Dr. Iplier frowned. "Hello? Who's in there? Are you alright? There's blood-"

As if rousing a slumbering beast, the pounding on the door abruptly escalated. The hinges rattled and Dr. Iplier leaped back in shock, gasping. He cursed as coffee spilled over his arm and the front of his coat. Still, the door handle jiggled, and then the voice that had been muttering rose to a fever pitched scream.

**_"LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT! WHO'S THERE?! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU FOR THIS! STAB YOU IN THE HEART! TEAR OUT YOUR EYES! LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT!"_** The words were punctuated with another shrill scream and a hearty slam against the door.

Dr. Iplier's breath caught in his throat. For a second, he feared the door would give, but by some miracle it held and he released the breath in relief. _Yandere_. It was Yandere behind the door. That explained all the blood. Yet, the question remained, who was the injured ego? Of course there was a possibility someone had simply locked a bloodied Yandere in the closet, but the circumstances were nagging at him. Something just wasn't right.

Unfortunately, Yandere was unlikely to give him any answers, even if he wasn't so incensed. No, he wasn't opening that door any time soon. He'd ask one of the more powerful egos to do it later. Dark or Wilford or a Google. He didn't even speak for fear of egging on Yandere's bloodlust. He merely turned and walked away.

Well, seeing as the noise was a dead end, that left Dr. Iplier with only one other option. Follow the trail. If it led off the grounds, then it probably did belong to Yandere after all. Or whichever poor soul had attempted to seek medical attention. Certainly not an ego, in that case.

The trail _did_ lead outside. However, it cut straight through the parking lot onto the lawn. There, it stopped in front of a walnut tree. A specific walnut tree that had been causing quite a ruckus amidst the egos lately. The first thing Dr. Iplier spied was the freshly carved heart. The second was more blood on the trunk; the branches. It led up. Whoever was bleeding, they climbed this tree, unorthodox as the concept sounded in his head.

There was only one ego who would climb a tree while bleeding so heavily he tracked enough blood to kill a normal human.

"King?" Dr. Iplier called up, lifting his gaze to the boughs. The morning light was still weak and the shadows cast by the leaves were heavy. It was impossible to tell if anything was actually up there. "King, are you there? King!"

Initially, there was no response. Yet just as Dr. Iplier was preparing to call up once more, there was movement on one of the lower branches. He thought it might be the ego, but instead the fuzzy head of a squirrel popped into view. He sighed heavily. "Are you a regular squirrel or are you one of his-" He stopped mid-sentence as something caught his eye. Dr. Iplier squinted. "Is that... blood?" It was difficult to see, but there was no mistaking it. That was red streaked through the squirrel's chestnut fur.

"King!" Rapidly, Dr. Iplier's mind put together the pieces. Yandere had "attacked" King's tree, he'd attempted to defend his grounds, and Yandere had stabbed him. Somehow, King must have trapped Yandere in the closet. Dr. Iplier couldn't fathom how, but if he'd gotten back into the tree, that at least meant he might still be alive. His tone became more concerned and frantic. "King! King! King, I know you're up there! Say something!" God help him if he had to attempt climbing this tree. He was a doctor, not a lumberjack.

Eventually, with much coaxing, a mop of black hair and gooey tan beard appeared through the foliage above. Dr. Iplier had to perform a double take. Without his crown, even with the peanut butter smeared onto his face, King looked remarkably like... well, Mark. He supposed he had forgotten, what with King prancing around in his "royal regalia" all the time.

"Doctor... what do you want? It's too early. I was asleep." King let loose a massive yawn as if to emphasize his words. However, Dr. Iplier wasn't blind. Physical details were his specialty- a necessity, when one happened to be a doctor. He recognized the unhealthy pallor to King's cheeks, the heavy bags beneath his eyes and how bloodshot they were. There was also dried blood spotting his forehead and dark bangs. As if he needed further confirmation of who the victim was.

"King, you're dying." When he only received a blank stare in response, Dr. Iplier sighed again. Old habits. "Or, you probably will be, if you don't let me get a look at that wound. I found Yandere. I don't know how you managed it, but I know locking him away didn't leave you unscathed. Come down here and let me see it."

King, realizing he was being called out, tensed. He retreated back into the shadows some and shook his head. "No."

That caused Dr. Iplier to sputter. "No? What do you mean, "no?" Why didn't you come straight to my clinic in the first place? You're not..." He paused, re-thinking his claim of King not being _stupid_. "...you're smarter than this. You've never hesitated to come to me about an injury before."

King merely shook his head again, though now Dr. Iplier could see the pain in his eyes. Being up and about must be stressing his injury. "No. I can't. If I come down, you'll take me to your clinic, and then I'll be stuck there. I'm not going. _They need me._ "

"Need you? Who? The squirrels?" Belatedly, Dr. Iplier's mind recalled the gossip and small talk circulating around Egos, Inc. the past few days. Stories of squirrel attacks and raining walnuts and all manner of lunacy. King was defending something in the tree, but Dr. Iplier had never actually caught wind of _what_ it was. He didn't want to leave it. "Don't be ridiculous. Yes- I know, that's hard for you. But you're _hurt_. You _need_ to come with me to the clinic, King. I won't take no for an answer."

"Well too bad. You're just gonna have to _make me._ " King huffed like a stubborn child. He receded back into his kingdom without another word. The squirrels which had gathered during the exchange, however, remained. The way they watched Dr. Iplier made him second guess his ideas to scale the tree.

No, he needed some muscle for this. He needed an ego who would not only listen to him, but be willing to help. An ego who wouldn't be harmed by vicious, defensive squirrels. An ego who could climb the tree in record time and achieve the stubborn ego within _without_ killing him.

Or, more precisely, **several** egos.

Seemed it was time for Dr. Iplier to go fetch The Googs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear...


	11. nuts and bolts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Iplier gets a little help, and has a small revelation in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were expecting me to title the Googles chapter as anything else then I'm sorry (not really) and clearly you don't know me.

King thought he'd gotten rid of the doctor. After lingering near the base of the tree a few minutes longer, Dr. Iplier had finally turned and left without another word. King thought he had won. Surely, the doctor didn't care enough. Surely, he couldn't be bothered with a troublesome, silly, powerless ego like King of the Squirrels.

That was how everyone else viewed him, anyway.

A simple stroll down memory lane confirmed that much. Every ego he'd interacted with hadn't been there for _him_. Not there to chat or play a game or see his squirrels. No one had even asked about the babies. Silver didn't count, he'd completely misunderstood the situation, and King refused to even think about Mr. Sucks-a-Lot.

No, the only reason anyone tried getting him out of the tree was for their own devices. They needed him for something or needed something _from_ him, or he was in the way, or he was just a plain old nuisance and embarrassment. Even the doctor couldn't be bothered to put up a fight for his well being. Was it really so strange King preferred the company of his subjects? His loving, doting, _loyal_ subjects who were always there for him, always watched his back, always tried to help. They couldn't stitch a wound, but they could comfort.

Several were still doing their best. King had retreated to his nest, ignoring the streaks of blood and how the substance had long soaked through his torn cape. He curled up there, sweaty and feverish and exhausted while his side throbbed incessantly. His breathing was heavy, but still he mustered a smile or two for the squirrels, petting at their soft fur.

"There, there. I'll be fine. I just... need rest. That's al-"

"King!"

King startled. Dr. Iplier was back? Why? Stunned and confused, it took King more than a few moments to drag his aching body back to the outer boughs. The doctor was still talking.

"King, I'm giving you one more chance to come down here. Otherwise, I'm sending up Blue and the others to bring you down! You _need_ to be looked after. You've lost far too much blood, even for an ego."

It was then King realized Dr. Iplier wasn't bluffing, and he hadn't left because he'd given up. No, he'd gone to get The Googs. Blue, Oliver, Oxnard- Orville was missing. Well, that was probably for the best. He was the most volatile and inclined towards violence. The last thing King needed was the automaton's laser vision setting his tree on fire.

(Inside, Orville was busy wrangling a seething, flailing Yandere from the closet. He tried to recall when "babysitter" had been added to his list of objectives.)

Abruptly, Oxnard's eyes gave a brilliant flash. He turned stiffly to Dr. Iplier. "Orville has sent a distress signal. I must go assist him. We shall both return once the threat has been neutralized."

Dr. Iplier didn't look very enthused or confident about losing another set of hands, but he understood how much of a handful Yandere could be. Even for an android. "Alright... be careful."

"Always."

King felt some relief as he watched the green Google speed walk back towards the building. Of course, two Googles were still nothing to sneeze at, but it was better than three. Plus, even if Blue was intimidating, Oliver was the nicest of the androids. He was likely the only one King had shared several conversations with, and he always loved petting King's squirrels. Maybe he could wiggle some sympathy points out of him.

"So? Are you going to come down? I don't want to do this, King. I don't want to hurt you. But you're giving me no choice." The doctor was calling up to him again.

King scrunched up his nose in response and shook his head. "My people need me. Here I shall stay."

"King, I must advise against this course of action. My scanners indicate your body is rapidly deteriorating in the wake of the stab wound you received from Yandere. You will not last another night in that deciduous tree." Unsurprisingly, it was Oliver, not Blue, who attempted to coax King down where the doctor had failed. King thought there might be actual concern on the Google's face, but perhaps that was just wishful thinking. Or maybe he _had_ lost too much blood and was beginning to hallucinate.

"It's a walnut, not whatever you said. And no. I'm an ego. I'm a monarch. I'll be fine. I just... need rest. Why won't you assholes let me _rest?_ " The last few words wheezed out of him. He didn't have enough steam left to deal with this anymore. King swayed momentarily on his perch, woozy, but rapidly shook his head in an effort to eliminate the feeling. "Just... go away."

He didn't bother sticking around for anymore conversation. He needed to lie down. King retreated to his nest of leaves and boughs, curling in on himself, wishing he had his full, fluffy cape to snuggle into. One or two squirrels remained steadfastly by his side, but the rest had gathered in his place. Watching. Waiting.

They knew a seige was on the horizon.

Below, Oliver sighed, almost forlornly. His head drooped. "I tried."

"Indeed." Blue's piercing gaze shifted to his more easygoing counterpart for a moment, then twitched back to the doctor. "Are we granted permission to retrieve him now? I am 75% more concerned about how the others are handling Yandere. This is a waste of time." His words were as harsh as his gaze, and Oliver seemed ready to dispute, but one look silenced him.

Dr. Iplier frowned and furrowed his brow at that, but he hadn't been expecting _sympathy_. Pity, maybe. Just a little. He sighed. "Yes, yes, get on with it. Please. Be as gentle as you can, I know it might be difficult with the squirrels, but..."

"We will handle the king with the upmost care, I assure you." Something about the malicious tilt to Blue's smile didn't entirely convince the doctor.

The two remaining Googles exchanged glances before nodding in unison. Then they set about the task of scaling the massive tree. Their movements were calculated and precise, if a little slow. Every grab, every step, every chosen branch was picked as the safest, fastest route to the top. Not a minute was wasted with hesitation or second guessing.

A glaring red blip appeared at the very top of Blue's vision. The signal was a safety precaution; a tool to warn him about incoming projectiles or threats. His head snapped up in time to catch a faceful of angry squirrel.

"Blue! Ack-!" Oliver yelped as another squirrel landed on his head, chittering and screeching as it gripped with its claws. He swiped futilely at his head in an attempt to dislodge the freeloader, gripping a branch with his free hand to maintain his elevation. Another landed on his shoulder. "They're everywhere!"

"No. They are simply from above." Blue was taking the assault with a deadly calm. Keeping himself up with his own branch, he easily reached around to rip the squirrels from his body. He resisted the powerful urge to crush them in his fingers only because he would get blood all over his clothes, and it was a waste of time. Instead, he dropped or tossed them carelessly aside. "Calm down. Use your sensors to pinpoint their location and then remove them."

Blue's serenity and advice helped Oliver work past his initial system overload. Carefully, he tracked down the wiry rodents and plucked them from his body. He was a little more gentle about casting them aside, but it was still quite a drop.

That didn't stop the squirrels from coming back. More dropped down from above, while the ones they'd discarded clambered up the tree with an unmatched speed. They leaped onto the Googles' shoes and jeans, biting and tearing with their claws. Blue kicked them off without mercy, inciting a chorus of pained squeaks. Oliver had no choice but to mimic his fellow automaton.

It was the cries of his people which roused King. He knew the Googles were climbing, knew his subjects were defending him, but he hadn't thought the Googles would actually _hurt_ them. He forced himself to roll over with a pained wheeze, dragging his body across the branches. "Hey..."

Blue was efficiently dislodging his fluffy passengers, and he began scaling the tree again. Squirrels fell from his reinforced body like flies. Several had stopped attempting to climb the tree again and merely watched from the grass below.

Oliver had less luck, as he wasn't quite so willing to manhandle the squirrels. Even so, he was making his own progress. It was only a matter of time.

King could still hear the occasional squeak; a cry of distress and pain. He heard the soft thumps of his subjects hitting the grass and knew he couldn't allow it to continue. At this rate, someone was going to die. He would never let them lay down their lives for him. Especially now, when their babies needed them. He had to put a stop to it. The Googles were relentless, and they weren't going to give up.

"Stop!" The word came out loud and clear that time. Nothing like panic, adrenaline and protectiveness to bring out the last of a person's energy. The small boost was enough for King to drag himself within view again, but he was panting. "Stop. Just- _stop_. Please."

Oliver halted immediately, the concern King thought he spied in his face from earlier returning. Blue climbed another few inches before grudgingly stopping as well, shrugging one more squirrel from his shoulder. His expression was comparatively blank, but the irritation in the set of his jaw and brow couldn't be missed. King was just relieved they'd stopped at all.

"Don't... don't hurt them. Don't hurt them anymore, I'll come down, I'll... I will. I will. Just stop...." The woozy sensation had returned as the minor burst of adrenaline leaked quickly from King's system. It was difficult to stay focused.

Blue's head tilted down as something warm and wet dripped onto his wrist. He watched the droplet of blood trail lazily down the curve of his arm. Oliver probably would have paled, were he capable of the reaction. Instead, he merely stared, his eyes slightly wide and his lips pressed tightly together. "Oliver. Loosen your grip on that branch by approximately 16.9%."

Oliver, realizing he'd been close to snapping straight through the wood, quickly followed the command. Indents were still left in the wake of his fingers. He forced his gaze back up. "King. Do not move. We are coming to retrieve you. Attempting descent is inadvisable in your current state."

"I said I'm coming down, I said... don't come up, don't hurt them, I'm.. I'm coming, I'm..." Spots sprung up in King's vision. He blinked them away, but his hand slipped from the branch he'd been using to support himself. He blacked out entirely as the world was turned upside-down.

The respite was brief. When King's senses came back online, he was on the ground, being held securely in Blue's arms. He couldn't recall exactly how he'd gotten there, but he didn't have any broken bones so he assumed he never hit the ground. He huffed out a shaky breath and attempted to move with zero success. Immediately, Dr. Iplier was beside him, placing gentle hands on his body and shushing him.

"Don't move. Damn it, King, this is.. you're beyond critical condition. If you weren't an ego, I would say you're dying. One more hour and it wouldn't matter. Blue, help me get him to a bed. I need to get him on an IV and examine this wound _immediately_." Dr. Iplier's voice was stern, but even King caught the frantic edge to it.

Yet, as Blue nodded and turned away from the tree, he found himself groping and grasping weakly at the doctor's coat anyway. He gasped in a breath and was forced to squeeze his eyes shut when he saw double. The Jims were the only doubles- or the Googles, but they had different colors. What was he going to say? It was so difficult to maintain a train of thought. "G.. go... I'll go... but... please. Someone. S-someone needs.. to stay with them. Watch them. Please, the babies...." His voice cracked. How pitiful, for royalty such as himself to _beg_.

For his subjects, he would do anything.

Dr. Iplier stared down at the injured, clearly delirious ego laying boneless and limp in Blue's arms. There was still so much blood. He couldn't begin to fathom how much was in the tree. Without his cape and crown, with his peanut butter beard almost gone from a lack of replenishing, King bore an almost identical resemblance to Mark. Not just any Mark- _young Mark._ Early days Mark, still living in a basement Mark, still experimenting with skits and egos Mark. He barely knew what he was doing then. Had no idea what one joke video would create.

An ego. A person. A being. An entire personality. King was so often discounted by the other egos as silly and pointless and useless. No powers, no abilities, barely capable of anything. A general nuisance. Yet he was one of the first. The inspiration. The spark. The proof Mark's fans would eat up content like theirs. A building block for future egos like himself, like Google.

Something clenched tightly in Dr. Iplier's chest. He thought it might be his heart. Maybe he was having cardiac arrest. "...I.." Oddly, in that moment, Dr. Iplier suddenly found he could deny the king nothing. He glanced at the squirrels, grouped up near the base of the tree, watching their ruler with obvious concern and trepidation.

His gaze slid up the bloodied bark towards the boughs. _Babies_. Honestly, not only did King _look_ like Mark, but he carried his too big heart as well it would seem. Dr. Iplier sighed heavily and turned to Oliver, who had been hovering with barely suppressed anxiety ever since King fell. "Oliver..."

The Google off-shoot looked up, attention snapping to the doctor. "Yes?"

"Could you remain here and make sure nothing harms the tree or its inhabitants until the king has healed enough to return? I know it's unorthodox, but he was the one who locked Yandere in the closet..." Dr. Iplier knew he sounded crazy. What a ridiculous request. Surely, Oliver had better, more important tasks to perform. He regretted so much as asking, and was about to rescind his request when said Google spoke.

"I will remain here. It will only be a day or two, correct? Egos heal at a faster rate than humans. It will not be a major issue." Oliver turned away from Dr. Iplier's stunned expression to lock eyes with Blue. He squared his shoulders a bit. "Correct?"

The staredown between androids was mere milliseconds. "...correct. You are relieved from current objectives until the time King has recuperated enough to reclaim his position."

Oliver looked as if he'd just been promised the world's supply of lollipops. He looked back to the King and gently pressed a hand to his shoulder. "I will remain with your subjects, King. Do not concern yourself. Nothing will bring them harm under my care."

Finally, the last remaining bit of tension leaked out from King's body. He went full dead weight in Blue's arms. For a moment, Dr. Iplier experienced a flicker of panic and had to check the ego's pulse. Thankfully, it was present, and King breathed out a whisper to confirm the fact he wasn't gone just yet. "Thank you..."

Dr. Iplier shook his head. Crazy. He must truly be _crazy_. "Alright, alright, that's settled. Quickly, Blue. To the clinic. There's no time to lose."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...just remember, if you kill me, you won't know if he lives!!!!


	12. losing some limbs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King of the Squirrels is finally all stitched up and on bed rest. However, it would seem a storm is brewing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... little late again, but I was determined to get this up before bed! It’s been plaguing me, this scene, for SO LONG. You guys have no idea. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope it was worth the wait. <3
> 
> @alcordraws, I hope you realize this one’s all your fault ‘cause it’s YOUR hc here. Take responsibility. :’(
> 
> It was a real trip to write man.
> 
> If you guys know alcor’s interpretation of the Jims, and you knew they were one of the only egos left, you really should have seen something like this coming.

King's assumptions about the wound had been correct. It hadn't pierced any internal organs, but it had been deep. Deep enough for King to lose a majority of his blood, as the wound refused to close fully. Clambering up a tree and sleeping amidst the branches did nothing to help.

Were he human, he without a doubt would have been dead before sunrise. Even as an ego, had Dr. Iplier and the Googs not intervened when they did, he'd be in the same boat. Dr. Iplier had been right too.

King wouldn't have lasted another hour.

Thankfully, once in the clinic, it was easy for Dr. Iplier to sanitize and stitch up the wound. He hooked King up to some fluids and let his natural ego healing take it from there. A blood transfusion would be pointless- so long as King's blood couldn't keep _spilling out of him_ , it would replenish itself just fine.

"You need rest. In an _actual_ bed, not a tree. I'm keeping you here under observation until I'm sure you won't rip open your stitches. Doctor's orders."

King had sulked and grumbled and been generally surly about the whole thing, but with Oliver keeping an eye on his subjects he had no reason not to concede to the doctor's demands. It _was_ nice to sleep in a bed, with pillows and blankets and sweet, sweet painkillers. Dr. Iplier forced him to eat something other than nuts or peanut butter, but he still had a stash of trail mix under his pillow. He could handle this.

Everything would be okay.

Several floors and halls away, someone was definitely _not_ okay.

Weatherman Jim clutched lightly at his head, tangling and tugging at his hair in the process. He paced back and forth in the room he shared with Newscaster Jim, breathing heavily. Sweat beaded his forehead. He was muttering anxiously to himself, stopping occasionally only to shake his head and begin pacing again.

News Jim watched with understandable trepidation. His posture was tense, one arm wrapped beneath his chest and the other lifting worn knuckles to his mouth. His teeth were sunk into the skin there, leaving fresh indents. After several more minutes of agonizing over Weather Jim's telling behavior, he forced himself to speak up, gnawing at his lip next.

"You're sure? You're not exaggerating?"

"No, no. Of course I'm not exaggerating. You know we don't exaggerate. What happens, happens, and this... it's gonna happen bad. Be a bad. Be- _fuck_." Weather Jim tugged more harshly at his hair as he came to a standstill, eyes wide and nervous. "It's gonna be bad, Jim, and it's going to hit _right on top of us_. We need to warn the other egos. At least the Googles, they need to prepare, they can't be outside-"

"Hey. Hey. Calm down." News Jim felt a bit hypocritical saying that, but he didn't know what else to do. "I'll go tell the Googles about the storm. You just stay here and try to relax. You know what happens if you get too absorbed in the vision. I don't wanna lose you here. Okay?"

Weather Jim forced himself to take a few deep breaths. Slowly, he nodded, tugging his fingers loose from his ruined hair. "...okay... okay.... Okay." Shakily, he dropped onto their couch, hands falling to grip tightly at his knees. It was his turn to gnaw on his lip.

"Hey." News Jim moved to stand near his alternate self, placing a gentle hand on a shoulder identical to his own. He waited until Weather Jim looked at him. "I'll be _right back_. I promise. I'll be here. Maybe... maybe I can get some of the others, too. Host, or... or the doctor. Bim maybe. I'll be back. Okay? I won't leave you alone."

Weather Jim stared at his companion for many long moments, eyes wide and afraid. At last, he shuddered out another exhale and gave a nod; dropping his gaze. "Okay."

News Jim tried to muster up a smile for him, patting his shoulder a few times. "Sit tight. I'll be back." Not wanting to waste another second, he coaxed himself away from his panicking counterpart and rushed out of the room. Tracking down the androids could prove difficult, but if he managed to find one, he'd find them all.

In the room, Weather Jim gasped in another terrified breath and combed fingers through his messy hair. He rocked lightly where he sat on the very edge of the couch. His brown eyes, though wide open with fear, stared through the carpet at his feet. They saw through every last inch of his surroundings, focusing away from himself; his body.

He could feel it. The gathering storm clouds. How the electricity crackled with anticipation in the air, making the small hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The reverberations of impending thunder quivering the air molecules. How heavy the cloud sat with their condensed water. The mass of cumulonimbus settled over their little corner of the world and for the life of him Jim couldn't understand _why_.

The storm followed zero weather patterns. There were no wind currents or storms further off to indicate such an insane electrical storm could be brewing. Hell, up until a short time ago, Jim had forecasted the weather to be incredibly _fair_. It had all just... come out of nowhere.

Above, outside Egos, Inc., thunder rumbled harshly. It was loud enough to shake the windows, and Jim's head snapped up to look out the nearest one. The sky was so dark it could be night; utterly thick with clouds. Lightning flashed wickedly, lighting up the shadows, and not a blink later thunder was crashing through once more. Jim squeezed his hands together in a crushing grip. He hoped none of the Googles were outside. He hoped Jim had found them. Jim hoped-

Sensation washed abruptly over him like a wave- no, like the sheet of rain which had just begun pouring outside. His mind jarred disconcertingly, so powerful it could have been physical. His stomach performed a somersault and he tightly clenched his jaw.

_No no no no no no no NO-_

Another wave washed over him. He could feel his consciousness pulling away. Jim tried to hang on, tried to cling to his body until Jim returned, but it was hopeless as always. Once the vision touched him, it claimed him, and there was no escape. Such was their blessing and curse.

Jim squeezed his eyes tightly shut, trembling through the transition, and opened them to find a very different view.

He was definitely in another body. A human caught up in the storm? People walked by Egos, Inc. every day. Rain was pouring down even heavier than it had appeared from the window. The body he inhabited was already soaked; utterly dripping as its host slogged through the grass. Jim attempted to gain a better grasp on his bearings.

The person he was invisibly hitching a ride on was a man. A little short and stocky; awkward, almost. He was only dressed in a loose shirt and some sweats. He didn't even have shoes. Jim was immediately puzzled, shuddering at the sensation of cold, mushy grass between his their toes.

Stranger still was the faint scent of peanut butter.

Jim realized rather than running away from the building and the storm above it, the man was actually circling the building. He was headed towards the back lot, from the looks of it. Jim was further flummoxed. There was no shelter back there besides a few trees. Who in their right mind would push _deeper_ into the storm?

Unfortunately, Jim was only privvy to sensation, not motivation. All he could do was go along for the ride and the experience. ~~He~~ They were chilled to the bone from the rain and breathing so hard ~~his~~ their lungs burned. There was a similar burning in ~~his~~ their side, but Jim couldn't figure out why. The man had a hand pressed tightly to the spot, though, the other slipping and sliding along the wall as a sort of guide.

It was raining so hard and thick it was almost impossible to see, but the man apparently knew where he was going. Could Jim's assumption have been wrong? Was the man an ego? None of the egos he knew would be out in a storm like this in such a sorry state. Not even the most reckless.

The rain continued to sting at his eyes. Jim felt ~~his~~ their nerves jump at a sudden flash of lightning. ~~His~~ Their gaze snapped up, as if searching frantically for something. The strike had been far too close for comfort.

Still the man moved on. Jim could feel his terror now, as he settled deeper into the subconscious. Fear of the storm and the lighting and thunder, but also fear for something else. _Someone_. The man was near to panic over the possibility of someone he cared dearly for being hurt.

So it was one of those.

Jim had inhabited people with such valiant goals before. Charging headlong into natural disaster for the greater good. They died, more often than not.

Still, he tried to understand. If the man _was_ an ego, who was he so concerned about? Who was he trying to save? Finally, their eyes landed on a tree. There was a ragged heart carved into it, and Jim wanted to wince at the names within. The man didn't seem phased, though. Merely stared up at the darkened boughs with trepidation before beginning to haul himself up.

Jim wanted to scream. He wanted to grab the man and shake him; ask if he had a death wish. As if being out in the storm wasn't dangerous enough, being in such a tall tree was just asking for trouble. There was too much lightning.

Still, the man climbed. The burning sensation in ~~his~~ their side intensified, and he heard a pained hiss slip past the man's lips. Something warm clashed with the cold numbness seeping into ~~his~~ their bones. Jim tried not to think about what it could be. He also tried to ignore how another bolt of lightning slammed into the ground merely a few yards away. The man was less successful in blocking it out, and Jim drowned in his spike of fright.

He had to think. An ego, dressed too down for anything to convey an identity, smelling faintly of peanut butter and clambering up a tree in the middle of a lightning storm.

There was only one ego crazy enough. And he was _still climbing_. Flinching and cowering away from every strike of lighting or crash of thunder, but climbing. Jim could hear another sound past the rain pattering through leaves and branches. He focused, trying to put a name to it. It sounded like chittering, and squeaking, and smaller shrieks.

A squirrel scrambled past mere inches from his face, and Jim's suspicions were confirmed just as a voice rang out through the harsh pounding of the rain.

**_"KING!"_ **

The man paused for a moment. Jim thought he was going to look back, but he must have changed his mind. He climbed up into the higher boughs and was instantly met with chaos. Squirrels were running rampant and wild everywhere, clearly frantic, and when ~~he~~ the man arrived they all instantly, _instinctively_ turned to him.

"H.. hey." No doubt. That was King's voice, weak and quivering as it may be. "S-sorry. I tried getting here sooner, but... I had to wait... had to sneak past him-"

"King! King, get out of there- get down from there! It's not safe in this storm! You haven't even fully healed yet! King!" Jim recognized that voice now as well. The doctor.

"King, implore you! I apologize for abandoning my objective but this is extremely inadvisable! The chances of lightning striking that tree are-" Oliver. That was Oliver's voice.

"Thirty percent. Approximately." Blue. Were all the Googles nearby?! Jim hoped they weren't outside.

"You hear that?! A thirty percent chance of you being electrocuted! Or that tree coming down on top of you!" Dr. Iplier screamed through the rain.

"Or both." Orville too?!

"OR BOTH!" Dr. Iplier emphasized.

King was ignoring all of them. Jim couldn't understand it. He felt more than watched King drag himself across the branches towards some hollows in the trunk. He grabbed up his crown along the way, but there was no sign of his cape. Wheezing and shivering, he spoke again to the congregation of squirrels now watching him expectantly. "I've... got this. I got it. I have them, I'll... I'll get them to safety. Just go. Run. _Hide_. Go to the crawl spaces if you have to. Just get out of this tree."

The squirrels didn't look entirely convinced. That, or they didn't want to leave their apparently fearless monarch. King shoo'd at them anyway. " _Go_. I mean it. If you get caught up here, I'll never forgive myself. You have to get _away_. I'll be right behind you." King was staring the squirrels down, and Jim wasn't sure how to take it. He felt as if he were intruding on an incredibly private moment. "Promise."

It wasn't immediate, but slowly, the squirrels followed his request. They descended from the tree and from there were a mystery to Jim, as King had returned his focus to the hollows. Jim could feel his relief, though. It was a welcome respite from the pain and fear and panic.

As were the small, sleeping forms of baby squirrels. They were snug and cozy in the nest their parents had made for them; Jim thought he even recognized a few book pages. Host probably wasn't happy. He felt King's lips form a tender smile as he reached into the hole, gently running a finger along one of the babies. "You were always worth it."

Thunder pealed through the sky again and Jim King jumped. Jim could feel how his King's heart began to race with another burst of adrenaline. Gently, he scooped the babies out of their nest, laying them within the cushy interior of his crown. They squeaked and whined and made a bit of a fuss, but they had yet to open their eyes. Jim doubted they'd be able to clamber out of the deep crown if they tried.

King double checked the hollow. By now, the storm was reaching its peak. Jim hadn't heard the shouts or cries of the other egos for several minutes. All the squirrels had retreated, and only King was left with the babies. How he planned to get down with them in tow, Jim would never know.

Because just as King began to edge back towards the lower branches, his hair stood promptly on end. Jim knew the warning in a heartbeat. King didn't. King would never see the lightning coming.

Like always, the moment passed in a blur. One would think Jim's cognition during the trauma would be better than the person he inhabited, due to the fact he was a separate entity. That wasn't the case at all. Due to being engulfed in all of the same sensations and feelings, Jim became just as swamped in the shock of the moment as the person actually experiencing it.

There was a bright flash. The entire world lit up brighter than the sun itself. Every last hair on King's body rose up. His skin tingled. He smelled burning, charred wood, and then the bright world exploded.

Branches, burning leaves, giant hunks of wood and razor sharp shards of bark flew about. They stung at every bit of exposed flesh on his body, made him cry out and scream. Yet King didn't make any move to protect himself. He didn't cover his head or his eyes. One arm wrapped tightly around the crown, while his body curled protectively over it as a human shield. His free hand reached out, flailing and grasping at the air for branches that no longer existed. He was falling. King was falling, and the world was falling with him, and in the wake of endless light came the suffocating dark.

Jim jolted so powerfully where he'd been slumped, quivering and sobbing, against the couch that he flew to the carpet in a heap. He heard several voices cry out but they weren't the doctor or the Googles. His world was a blur, his head spun and he felt like throwing up. He dry heaved against the floor like a fish out of water.

"Jim! Jim, fuck, Jim, it's okay. You're okay. You're back. You snapped out of it." That sounded like his voice. Jim?

"That one was particularly bad. Host suggests helping Jim back onto the couch. Jim should also go get a bucket. Jim looks ill." Host, too. Jim must have found the Host after the Googles.

_The Googles. **King**._ Jim had to tell them.

"J... shhjjj... hrrrk...." His mouth wouldn't cooperate. Jim's jaw felt too slack; his vocal chords all jumbled together in his throat. He was still reeling from the vision, from the mental hijack of another ego's body. Was King okay? Was he even still alive? Normally, when Jim came back, it was because his target was either knocked unconscious, or...

"Shh. Don't try talking yet. Here, I've got you." Jim's soothing voice was in his ear. Hands were pulling him up, onto his knees, then onto the couch. He slumped down into the cushions with heaving breaths.

"Get the bucket. Host will try speaking with Jim." Jim heard the retreating footsteps of his other self and immediately longed for his return. There was a cool hand on his forehead, sweeping messy, sweaty bangs out of his face. _"Jim is safe now. The storm will pass, and the vision is finished. Jim feels relief flood his veins, feels the contentment of company in his bones-"_

"Host." Jim hates interrupting Host during a narration, especially when he's trying to help. However, he's found his voice, and he can't waste another moment not using it. " _Host_. It's K-King. King of the Squirrels. I- h-he.. it was him. I was with him and he was in the tree and lightning and- and- and-"

The hand pressed a bit harder to his forehead. "Shhh... Deep breaths. Calm." Jim tried to argue, but the Host just kept shushing him. He had no choice but to listen, and by the time he'd gotten his breathing in order Jim had returned with a bucket. "Now. King of the Squirrels, Jim says? Jim was with the king?"

Jim nodded, clutching tightly at the bucket and still feeling sick. "I-it was him. I was with him, f-for the vision, it... h-he could be dead. He could be dead, the tree.. the lightning..." Jim turned large, red-rimmed eyes to the Host. His lips trembled. "Host, _please_. Please, you have to help him, you have to make sure he's okay."

Host pursed his lips. He looked to be contemplating how best to respond when there was a harsh, urgent knocking at the door. He frowned instead and raised a hand when News Jim made to stand. "It's for the Host." Carefully, he rose to his feet and went to greet the visitor.

It was Oxnard.

"Host. I apologize if I am interrupting anything, but we require your assistance. Urgently."

Host lifted his head some, and Jim swore if he had eyes he would have been looking straight back at them in his peripheral. "The Host is well aware. Please, by all means, lead the way. Host will see what it is he can do to help."

Oxnard gave a single nod, spared the Jims only a glance, then turned on his heel and walked rapidly from the doorway.

"The Host will return. Please be patient." He gazed after Oxnard, his hand lingering on the door. "Host will make certain King is alright." Then he left, leaving the Jims alone in the wake of it all.

Outside was pure chaos. Oliver was beside Dr. Iplier, the both of them tearing through the rubble of the destroyed tree. They called out variations of King's name, over and over, the only hint of his presence beneath the debris a single, limp arm. Many of the squirrels had returned and were scampering about the mess, but there was little they could do.

Blue was shouting at Oliver, trying to bring him back into the cover of the building. It was still pouring, with lightning and thunder crashing dangerously down. Were it not for his stern commands, Orville would be outside as well. Blue could feel the android practically vibrating in place beside him.

_"The Host arrives on the scene with Oxnard, and with his presence comes calm."_

Blue's head whipped around, though he masked his surprise. He shared a look with Oxnard, who merely shrugged one shoulder. "I went for assistance."

_"The Host thanks Oxnard for his insight, and moves to the open doorway. The Host can hear the cries of his companions. He knows what he must do, and with all of his ability the Host pushes out with his calm. The Host wrangles with the storm casting devastation about the land. He grasps and tugs and **throws** , and the storm obeys his words. The Host is in control. The storm is merely a figment; a conjuration. It bends to the Host's will and retreats. The clouds have distended their cargo, the lightning pulls back like a snake, the thunder quiets until even the most gentle of rumbling ceases. The clouds pull away, and the sunlight is revealed in their wake. Bright, warm, it dries up the rain and dispels anything which may attempt to linger. The storm is gone. The storm is ceased. The Googles are safe..."_

Host continued his narrations, though his voice had softened as he loosened his grip on his surroundings. He felt a little dizzy after exerting so much power. Leaning heavily against a wall, he shook his head at Blue and Oxnard's hesitation, waving them off. "The Host will be fine. It is King the Googles should be worrying about. They must go assist their companions. For the king is in dire straits."

The Googles left, and Host leaned more of his weight against the wall with a heavy, tired sigh. He mentally reached out, straining his ability just a little bit longer. He wanted to know. He _had_ to know.

**Was the effort worth it?**

Together, the Googles were able to clear the debris. It took time, and the moment they revealed King's curled up body beneath the rubble Dr. Iplier was kneeling beside him. Before he could so much as check for a pulse, however, there was a faint, muffled squeaking.

Hesitantly, Dr. Iplier shifted the arm still wrapped firmly around King's crown. He lifted a bit of the cloth lining the interior, and he felt his heart constrict oddly in his chest again. He should probably run some tests on that, but for now he released a soft breath and stared down at the contents of King's crown. The squirrels had dared to come closer in the meantime, with one going so far as pushing itself up beneath King's jaw line.

One or two litters of healthy, squeaking baby squirrels wiggled about in their makeshift nest. The squirrel pressed up beneath King's chin sniffed at them, then turned to look up at the doctor with a squeak of its own. He trembled.

King looked too much like Mark, like this. Too much like injured, dead Mark and Dr. Iplier couldn't understand why he was getting so emotional. There was absolutely nothing to distinguish King from their creator, but still the doctor reminded himself he was an ego.

An ego, an ego, an ego. Not a human. Not so vulnerable.

He had to be okay. He had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...just one chapter left. And one ego. Do you know who it is?


	13. a brand new court

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All's squir-well that ends squir-well. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s the chapter you’ve all been waiting for. The resolution to the climax and the finale to a fic I never imagined would get so huge. What started out as a silly oneshot idea became a beast all its own, and though it’s been a hassle to wrangle at times, I don’t regret letting it grow to its full potential- wild and crazy as it might be.
> 
> It’s kind’ve a tree pun get it cause... nevermind.
> 
> The support and love for this fic has been astonishing and appreciated. I never thought so many people would be into it, or into the King’s shenanigans, so count me (and him) happily surprised! As one of Mark’s oldest egos, he really deserves more love, and hopefully I’ve sparked a little something in the community by writing this. Let’s never forget our nutty monarch.
> 
> I have to give a final thank you to [angstphilosophy](http://angstphilosophy.tumblr.com) for putting up with me and all the horrible things I did to his favorite ego, and of course [alcordraws](http://alcordraws.tumblr.com) for all the inspiration and support. If you aren’t following them yet, go.
> 
> So here it is, everybody. Hope you enjoy it, and I’ll see YOU, in the next fanfic. Buh-bye~

_"Is it truly such a loss?"_

_"Shame on you, Darky. He's been with us since the beginning."_

_"The Host thinks a certain... something, would be lacking without his presence. When he finds a name for it..."_

_"Sass awrful."_

_"He was kinda dumb anyways."_

_"And he was holding all those poor babies hostage!"_

_"Wouldn't even consider sellin'em, tha monster."_

~~_"Too much, too much, it's too much..."_ ~~

_"I can't believe it's gone! All that work, wasted!"_

_"Everyone, calm down, this isn't helping."_

_"The doctor is correct. His chance of survival is extremely low as is."_

_"Approximately 20.6754%."_

_"Thank you, Oxnard."_

_"Should have permitted my assistance... could have helped...."_

_"I wish there was something I could have done sooner. I could have stopped him."_

_"Jim, don't. You know that's not possible...."_

_"...if you're all done going off on your own tangents, I have a suggestion."_

The rains had dried up. The clouds retreated. The world was warmed by the sun's rays and gradually, the mess of the back lot was cleaned up. The Googs insisted on lopping off what remained of the walnut tree's shattered trunk, leaving only a short stump as a marker it had ever existed at all. Bim stopped by, shortly after, decorating the stump with some lovely ribbon and a small, handmade plaque. He felt it was the least he could do for the fallen.

Days drifted by. The squirrels, displaced from the home they'd created, milled about the many crawl spaces of Egos, Inc. They could often be spied briefly in any of the numerous rooms, including those belonging to the egos. They never remained in sight for too long.

Except, however, in the clinic. Dr. Iplier had placed all of the babies in a makeshift nest in a secluded, quiet corner and thus many of the squirrels were drawn to the space. He did his best to keep an eye on them and keep them warm, but even with the odd conditions, the squirrels did a decent job of caring for their litters. Host had actually offered to let the babies nest in his library, where it was warmer, quieter and darker. Yet Dr. Iplier had declined.

He felt it was best if the babies stayed near the one non-squirrel they trusted. The person who had risked his life for them on more than one occasion.

Dr. Iplier was still trying to figure out how King of the Squirrels had survived. Between his healing injury, the partial electrocution and being buried beneath the rubble of an entire tree, King should have at least perished. Perhaps not disappeared, but been dead for some time before reviving with help from Mark's community. He was such a small ego with an equally small fanbase, it didn't make sense for him to be strong enough to withstand such abuse.

Yet he remained stable throughout the passing days. Never waking up, but never slipping into a more permanent slumber. He was resting; healing slowly even with assistance from the doctor.

"It's kind've a miracle, you know." Dr. Iplier quietly explained after King had finally opened his eyes. "And I don't really believe in those, but I don't know what else to call this kind of intervention. Mark's community... there was an odd spike in interest, recently. In you. I'm not sure what caused it, but... I have zero doubts the popularity spike resulted in your survival. Something made them remember you, King. And it also made them love you, all over again. I think you're giving Silver a real run for his money on the luck side of things."

Once awake, King still had many days of recovery left. He'd broken bones, dislocated limbs, shattered joints and been punctured more times than a pincushion. The shapes and sizes of wood shrapnel Dr. Iplier had removed from his body were astounding. He'd lost much of the blood he'd regained, and simply moving proved near torturous. Dr. Iplier kept him on heavy medications for a long time.

Gradually, though, he improved. He became more lucid as the drugs were decreased, and he found he could move and even sit up in bed. He started to interact with the squirrels which had been lingering around and was thrilled to discover all of the babies were okay.

"Thrilled" wasn't the same word he'd use to describe his reaction to actually being visited by some of the other egos, but it was close.

Wilford stopped by once, gifting him with peanut butter cups he'd gotten from a fan. Claimed King would just _have_ to drop by for another interview, as the ego who survived being struck by lightning.

Host delivered a book he'd gotten about anthropomorphic squirrels and other rodents questing in a fantasy land. He emphasized it was King's to keep, and even stuck around to read the first few chapters to the ailing monarch.

Mark Bop drifted by with Bing in tow to drop off a CD player and another mix he'd made up. He didn't say much, clearly nervous, but Bing happily exclaimed how "rad" and "gucci" King was for surviving the lightning storm "like a boss." King still wasn't sure how to take it, but it sounded like a compliment.

A small portrait of a squirrel mysteriously appeared at King's bedside one morning, blessedly clear of any creepy red men.

Oliver stopped by often just to chat with King and see how he was doing, and occasionally he brought along the Jims or Bim as well. They always had treats or snacks to indulge him with until Dr. Iplier caught them and chased them out long after visiting hours were over.

It was... strange. King wasn't accustomed to receiving so much attention from anyone besides his subjects. Between the love he could feel swelling within Mark's community and the attentions of his fellow egos, it was almost as if he were healing something else alongside the physical. Something deep inside of him which had been broken and lacking for a very long time.

When King could finally be "discharged," he was approached by Bim in the clinic. He still had a bit of a limp and couldn't exert himself for long periods of time, but he wasn't at risk of collapsing or tearing open any stitches. Curiously, Bim actually looked _excited_ , immediately piqueing King's curiosity.

"King! I'm so happy to see you on your feet again. You had us all really worried for a while there- well, most of us. The important ones." He grinned, gesturing some with his hands as he spoke. "Now, I know you were _just_ released by everyone's favorite medical professional, but I was hoping you could come with me for a bit! Just a bit, I promise, I won't keep you long. You can bring all of your squirrels along, too! And the babies!" A hint of a delighted squeal tinged Bim's tone, drawing out a soft smile from the King. Bim had been utterly smitten with the babies since he discovered them in the clinic.

King was still so tired, but Bim's enthusiasm really couldn't be denied. "...alright, I'll come. But just for a little while. I don't know how long I can be up and about right now." He needed to figure out where he was going to hole up next. He didn't recall any other trees occupying the back lot, and the babies needed somewhere safe to be raised. The clinic just wouldn't do.

Bim clapped his hands together excitedly, beaming. "Great! Fantastic! Grab the babies and we'll be right on our way. Not a second longer than you can stand, I promise!"

King sort of doubted Bim, but he didn't comment on the hastily thrown about promises. Instead, he went to grab the box, cradling it much as he had his own crown that fateful day. The squirrels would have tailed him regardless, but with their babies in tow they followed him a little more adamantly. Several were hitching rides on his shoulders. He didn't mind one bit, and neither did Bim, if his amused smile was anything to go by.

While they walked, Bim navigating the halls of Egos, Inc., King allowed his mind to wonder about what Bim wished to show him so badly. He had no idea where they were going to supplement his imagination, so it ended up running a little wild. At least he knew it wouldn't be anything _bad_. Bim didn't have the heart for that.

They arrived to a set of doors King didn't recognize at all. They weren't labeled, and the wood was darker in color than the other doors in the building. In fact, the entire frame looked brand new, along with much of the surrounding wall. He blinked owlishly at the sight before turning to Bim with a questioning expression. Even the squirrels were sniffing curiously at the doors, but Bim merely maintained his smile as he set a hand on one of the door handles.

"This was a... well, a group effort. I- we, really hope you like it, King. You deserve it. After... everything." Bim turned the handle and swung open the door, gesturing for King to step through.

Natural light and the blessed smell of fresh air hit King first. More than a few of the squirrels scampered eagerly over the threshold before he could coax his own feet to move. The warmth of summer ensconced him instantly, but it was subdued. Shade cast by the surrounding walls prevented the grassy inner courtyard from becoming too hot.

Egos, Inc. did _not_ have a courtyard. King had lived in its nooks and crannies long enough to know that much. No, this entire space had been cleared out from the very heart of the building. Not just at the ground floor, either. The open air stretched up and up and _up_ until the sky could be seen from above. The sun's gentle rays drifted in, reflecting off the glass windows and dappling the leaves of a massive, California black walnut.

The tree stood tall and strong at the very center of the courtyard. Its trunk was thicker than King's last two trees combined, with its roots running long and deep into the soil. Its boughs almost stretched across the entire expanse of the courtyard and reached more than halfway up the building.

It was a tree which should have taken decades, perhaps even _centuries_ , to grow. A tree which never could have been transferred from one plot of land to another. Not without some physics-breaking abilities involved.

Hell, the entire courtyard must have been the result of just that. Reality had been bent here; molded and shaped to fit the egos' will. King gawked at the sight in absolute awe while his subjects scampered about with a newfound excitement and interest of their own. He was so enthralled by the surprise and his own shock that he failed to realize several more egos had been awaiting his arrival.

"Couldn't get Dark to get off his lazy bum and give us a helping hand, but with some help from Bim I was able to manage. Hosty helped some too. Couldn't have done it so nice and neat without him." Wilford drawled, gesturing to the other two reality benders present. Bim smiled a bit bashfully, rubbing at the back of his neck.

Host was smiling as well, hands clasped lightly together. "They just required a guiding hand. Host wanted to assist, if it meant keeping the King's squirrels out of his library...."

"Sul sul- ah, I mean..." Mark Bop awkwardly cleared his throat, wringing his hands. King wasn't certain if the ego was nervous about him, or the powerful egos in the courtyard. "We didn't really... help, but... Bing and I here, we just... garnar frash. Flarn." He scrubbed a bit at his face. "We wanted to apologize. For trying to force you out of your tree."

Bing didn't look too enthusiastic, but a swift elbow to the ribs from Mark Bop got him speaking up as well. He scratched at the back of his head in obvious irritation, attempting to come off as aloof. "I mean... fuck. Yeah. Sorry, I guess. That I flipped off your tree, and your squirrels. An' told'em to fuck off. That was... lame." He huffed and pouted for a moment, but it dissolved away when he exchanged a brief look with Mark Bop.

"That's why we're here too. I offered to help decorate the space but they told me no." Silver lamented, motioning between Ed Edgar and himself. "I've been meaning to tell you, but... I just couldn't work up the nerve. I'm sorry. I should've asked more questions, and not jumped to conclusions.... You had every right to dump me out of your tree."

"And I guess I... well... _sorry_. For offerin' ya a gosh darn business venture-" Ed made a pained sound as someone stepped on his booted foot, but it happened so quickly no one could be sure of the culprit. "I'm sorry! Okay? 'm sorry, got-damn."

Artiplier stepped forward. He looked as awkward and anxious as the others, but different somehow. Clearly, it wasn't pride or stubbornness heavying his tongue. Rather, guilt shone bright and sad in his brown eyes and his expression. He even toned down some on the accent when he spoke. " _Desole_. I'm... zorry, King. For everything." He despairingly shook his head. "I never should 'ave..."

"It's not your fault lightning struck my tree. Or that Yandere attacked me. _I'm_ sorry I scared you off that day." King was quick to interject. He had no idea why Artiplier felt so responsible.

Said ego sighed, but worked up a pained smile. "Of course, of course. I... I left you zome paints and brushes, near ze trunk. In case you... wanted to make murals. On ze walls. Darkiplier gave his permission..."

"With a little arm twisting. Told'im he wouldn't be able to see it, anyway." Wilford spoke up with a mischievious wiggle of his mustache.

It was King's turn to smile at the kind gesture. "Thank you, Artiplier."

The artist scoffed softly. "Zink nothing of eet. I also promise never to paint zis tree."

"Uh... okay." King didn't understand why that was necessary, but if it prevented another freak out, he wouldn't complain.

All of the Googs weren't present, but Oliver was. "We installed some dim lighting around the courtyard as well. For nights when moonlight is unavailable. We attempted to make it as natural appearing as possible."

"And I'm forecasting nothing but sunny days to come." Weatherman Jim grinned from where he stood with Newscaster Jim. It was only then King realized they each held something in their hands, and Bim stepped forward once more.

"May I...?" He was extending his arms, gesturing to the box of baby squirrels.

King's first instinct was to tighten his grip and pull the box closer to himself. However, the items being offered were too tantalizing to resist. He needed his hands. Hesitantly, after much internal debate, he carefully passed over the box. He treated it like precious, fragile glass, and was relieved when Bim mimicked the caution.

The Jims stepped closer, raising their "offerings" with matching smiles. "Jim here's gonna try apologizing to you profusely, I couldn't convince him not to, so you better accept it Mr. King." News Jim was speaking up before his other self could, and Weather Jim shot him an irritated look.

"Jim..."

"You don't need to apologize either." King lifted a hand, quieting the egos who were primed to bicker. "You couldn't have stopped me. Even if you had the ability, if you were actually there... I would have ignored you. Just like I did the others. In fact, I should thank you. In the case Oxnard might not have gone to fetch the Host..." He trailed off, a shadow crossing his face at the very real possibility of his untimely demise.

Weather Jim still didn't look entirely convinced, but he smiled and pressed a familiar cape into King's hands nonetheless. "We may not know each other very well, but... I wanna change that. And I'm glad you're okay. You'll be safer, here. All of you."

King accepted the cape with a renewed awe and relish, rubbing his hands over the soft and fluffy material. "How..."

"Well, you know, when you've got reality benders on the roster...." News Jim grinned, and Bim's bashful smile told all. He waited for King to slip the cape back over his shoulders before offering him the crown again. "We shined it up real nice for you. It was kind of dirty, after... y'know. Now it's good as new."

"I... thank you...." King took the crown into his hands, admiring the sheen of the faux silver and costume jewlery. Almost reverently, he set it upon his head and grinned. It was barely a second before a squirrel was clambering on top of it, chittering away happily. He giggled. "I almost feel like my old self. Now if I just had some peanut butter-"

"Don't make me regret this."

The sound of a cool, raspy voice drew the egos attention to the still open doorway. Several sets of eyes widened at the sight of Darkiplier, clad in his finely pressed suit and clutching a large jar of peanut butter. He stalked towards King, who immediately tensed and inched away. His brief experience with the void may have been ages ago, but it stuck out in his mind like a fresher memory.

Several of the egos were stepping in, looking more than ready to get between two of Mark's oldest creations. Dark stopped and held up his hand, expression reserved. "Stop it. I'm not going to hurt him. I simply wanted to... view the finished product. And supply a peace offering." His darkened eyes flitted back to King, whose stomach still chilled beneath their gaze. He eyed the jar being extended towards him with an understandable wariness. Dark looked like he wanted to roll his eyes. "It's just peanut butter. Take it. And kindly keep your antics in here, where they can't cause the rest of us any trouble. This week's been enough of a headache...."

"You'd think he was the one struck by lightning." Wilford muttered, the only one confident enough to voice his thoughts. He smirked when Dark's shell cracked and his composure twitched to the side in a silent scream. "Go ahead, Kingy. If it is poisoned, we'll just turn his office into an arboretum."

Dark was scowling openly at Wilford and King used the opportunity to take the jar. Immediately, the grey aura dispelled from it, and Dark turned away from the assembly of egos. "Just keep your squirrels in here, and we won't have any problems." He left without another word, as quickly and silently as he'd come. None of the egos had any complaints about how brief the visit was.

However, they did take it as their own signal to head off, saying goodbye to King and some giving him well wishes. Others promised to come and visit very soon. Bim was the last, and he lingered, beaming at how King still looked up at the massive tree with a childish wonder. He cleared his throat to get the King's attention and gestured to the door. "Also, in case you thought the color on these doors might look familiar.... They're made from the walnut that was destroyed. We gathered up the broken wood and the Googles did a bit of planning, and we did a little magic and... I just thought it was appropriate. I hope you don't mind..."

King looked up at the door frame. Slowly, he dragged his hand down the freshly carved wood; polished smooth and clean by skilled hands. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to the walnut and closing his eyes while he breathed in. It still smelled like home.

Now he had a new home. A safe home, tucked away in the heart of Egos, Inc. and surrounded by friends he never thought he'd be lucky enough to have. The smile on his face was utterly serene. He'd never been so at peace. "No, it's... thank you. I'm glad it didn't go to waste. It was a good tree. It deserved better than the dump or a wood chipper or a fire...." He pulled away, giving the frame a few solid pats.

"It did... and so do you. I'm happy you like it, King. Please, feel free to come visit me any time as well. You can even bring some of your squirrels along, just- don't let them get to the wires." Bim passed the box of babies back to King before taking his leave. The doors clicked shut behind his retreating form, and King was left alone with his subjects at long last.

He turned back to the tree, still trying hard to wrap his brain around all that had happened. The babies and his subjects were safe. They would be happy here. He'd survived so much, and Mark's community was remembering him. The egos were remembering him. They liked him. They wanted to be... he had...

He had friends. Not just loyal subjects, but _friends_. A warm wetness trickled down his cheeks and he sniffled. Something soft and fluffy rubbed against his cheek, and he smiled gently at Tim perched on his shoulder. "I'll be okay. Just... bein' a big, bubble-blowin' baby here." He sniffled again. The babies in the box were beginning to chirp softly, calling to their parents in search of food and affection. He laughed, more breath than actual sound, and shook his head. "We have some work to do. Our new kingdom awaits, and a new generation with it."

King looked back up to the tree, its boughs swaying in a light breeze. His eyes shone big and wet with more tears he didn't bother wiping away. They were good tears. Adjusting the box in his arms, he headed for the sturdy trunk, watching his squirrels like a proud father.

"Hello, everybody! I am your King, and today we're going to explore our new kingdom!" He laughed brightly as he began to scale the branches. "First one to the top has fleas!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! One last note.
> 
> Did you enjoy this story? Are you enjoying the series about egos thus far? Want to see more?
> 
> Well then please come vote in this [poll](https://strawpoll.com/gx4zs693) for the idea YOU want to see next! It's to celebrate me hitting 400 followers, I want to write what all you lovely people want to see. So go and vote! I'm only giving it a day or so and then I'm announcing the winner. uwu

**Author's Note:**

> I wonder which ego will need to get him down next? Hopefully they're a little more considerate about it....


End file.
